


From UNC, Love Lara Jean

by mcsquared



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2019-11-14 19:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcsquared/pseuds/mcsquared
Summary: With Peter K at another university, and Lara Jean at UNC, they start their freshman year. How will they weather the separation, the distance between them? How will Lara Jean cope on her own at UNC and learning the in(s)-and-out(s) of her new life? Follow them through their humor, disappointments, hardships, adventures, and love. (rating and genre are subject to change)





	1. i: i

Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to Jenny Han and associates. I am simply living vicariously through her amazing characters. No infringement meant.  
.

* * *

**From UNC, Love Lara-Jean**

* * *

"I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious."

– Albert Einstein

* * *

.

  
I put up my last wall decoration and stand back to take a look at my creation.

Not to toot my own horn, but I think my dorm room looks quite mature, yet still wonderfully whimsical. Though we aren’t allowed to damage our dorm walls, that doesn’t stop me from putting my own artistic flare on my room. I want it to feel, light, airy, but like I’m a serious college student.

If that makes any sense…

What I’m left with is quite pretty.

The floor beneath my bed is covered in a shaggy cream-colored rug. I wanted to go with shocking white, but Kitty, Daddy and Trina pointed out the pit falls of that in a college dorm, so I compromised.

Sigh.

On the walls I have teal colored water colors I found at Home Goods. They look beautiful and remind me of somewhere soft, warm and a fuzzy distant place I haven’t been before. The concept makes more sense in my head.

Underneath my bed, I’ve stuffed my suitcase and shoe organizer I found at an estate sale with Peter last month. I’m a lot better at haggling prices now. I’ve also stuffed my bath stuff and laundry detergent under. Those are items one doesn’t need to see and aren’t pretty.

To the left of my bed is my built-in desk. On it I’ve organized my laptop, my school books, all of my pretty school supplies and organized things like bins, dividers and teal colored baskets that have dandelions on them.

My desk chair has a grey fuzzy pillow Gogo bought me from Target.

On my bed, I have a grey, teal and chartreuse colored comforter with matching pillow cases, and more fuzzy pillows that Kitty had to buy for me. She isn’t one to be outdone by Margot.

To the right of my bed I have a narrow bookcase in a dark cherry stain that holds more of my books, some knickknacks Trina gave me (one is an exclamation mark, ‘to make my point at UNC’, and another is a picture frame with the word ‘family’ written in fancy cursive on it. A picture of Daddy, Trina, Gogo, Kitty, and myself at their wedding sits inside.  
The picture takes me back to such a happy place.

The sun had just set and Peter and I had just finished our dance by the Dogwood tree in my yard. My cheeks were stained pink; the wide smile couldn’t be wiped from my face for all the money in the world. After Daddy and Trina called me over for a family photo, my fingers had reluctantly let go of Peter’s at the last moment possible. Even in the picture, while everyone is looking at the camera smiling, I seem to be gazing into the horizon, smiling softly, wistfully (Trina’s word). I had been smiling at Peter, thanking my lucking stars and moon we were back together.

Before leaving, after my family dropped me off at UNC, Trina had pulled out a hurriedly wrapped gift and handed it to me. I could swear there were even flecks of fallen coffee on it Tearing off the paper, I felt tears prickle my eyes, the picture frame and the image of me and my family was a wonderfully thoughtful gift. Of course I had brought a picture of my family, but this one was a gift from Trina and therefore even more special.

“To remember us by, sweetie,” she whispered in my ear while giving me a side hug.

“No matter how far you go in this world, and no matter where you may be, your family is always with you. Yeah?”

I could only nod, my throat tight with a lump and tears stinging my eyes.

“And the fact you are staring beyond and looking adorably at Peter,” at this I blushed, “is the piece de resistance. Remember that look, Lara Jean. There will be stormy seas head for you both, because that’s life, girl, but if continue to look for him and keep him on your horizon, it can work out. I know you are both young, but don’t let anyone define your relationship. It’s you and Peter. No one else. K?”

“Thanks, Trina. For everything,” I all but squeak. My throat was tight still with emotion. “Take care of Kitty and Daddy. They mean everything to me.”

She caressed my cheek before putting some stray hairs behind my ears. “As they do to me, sweetie.”

I pull from my thoughts and straighten the frame. I’m very blessed with the family I have and the bonds we share.

I even have a Korean white porcelain bottle my grandma bought me while in South Korea. It’s delicate, beautiful, and distinctive. Just like me, grandma claimed.

And on a shelf all on its own are pictures of Peter and me. One from Prom, one from Daddy’s wedding, one from us lazing around my house on the couch (that Kitty took, wanting to show us how vomit-inducing we looked), and of course my sixteen candle’s moment birthday party. Peter had looked particularly handsome by the light of my birthday candles. I know, I’m beyond helplessly in love with the boy.

All in all, I love my room.

I take a quick picture of my room and send it to Peter.

I think it screams Lara Jean Song-Covey.

Serious college student.

I caption it “From UNC, Love Lara-Jean”  
.  
.  
I smile triumphantly as I find my way from my class to my dorm with having to pull out my embarrassing map. I’m not always the best with directions, but Lara-Jean is learning, I think happily.

Students have looked at me funny when I pulled out my map many times this week. I almost felt like Joey in that Friends episode when he was in London and had to go into his map to find his way around.

My roommate Alexandria (Lexie for short) thought it quite hilarious and took several pictures of me. I gave her an evil look, but later asked for the pictures to send to Peter, Gogo and Kitty. I thought they’d get a kick out of it.

'Really Lara-Jean. Unclench…' from Kitty.

'Whatever you need to make yourself feel comfy, sis. Just B U…' from Margot.

'Just when I thought I couldn’t heart you more, Covey. But srsly funny as hell …' That’s an obvious one

I think I’m finally getting the hang of being a mature college student.  
.  
.

With the first week of my college career under my belt, I take the first Saturday to sleep in. It feels quite decadent to sleep in until 10:30 am, yet I feel as if I’ve earned the privilege. I stayed up until two in the morning finishing my reading and assignments for the first week and making quite a sizable dent in next week’s reading.

As I sit up and stretch as I look over to Lexie’s side of the room. She’s already gone. Though it’s Saturday, she has practice still. My roommate is in the dance program at UNC. She’s a ballerina and quite beautiful. Alexandria H. Courtland is tall, walks straighter than anyone I’ve ever seen, has the backbone of a cat it seems (I’ve seen the girl stretch as if she hasn’t a backbone), and a bellybutton piercing.

That could be quite intimidating, but she is super sweet. Funny, talented, and has quite a wicked sense of humor. But don’t think she doesn’t have her pit falls. Her feet often smell of stale corn chips, they have constant sores on them from the unnatural positions she puts them in with dancing, and can burp louder than anyone I’ve ever heard.

All in all, we get along quite well. Truly I lucked out in the roommate department. I’ve already heard girl’s arguing down the hall.

Pushing all thoughts from my head, I close my eyes and just smile.

Here I am at UNC Chapel Hill and a freshman at University.

Where does the time go, truly?

As I’m about to fall back asleep, my phone starts to buzz.

Without looking at the screen, I answer it.

“Not up yet, Covey? Already slacking, hmm?”

My heart starts to beat faster and a soft pink flush comes to my cheeks, as if he’s caught me doing something naughty.

“For your info,” I reply haughtily, “I was up quite late at a party last night and just got home a few hours ago.”

I can hear a little disbelief in my boyfriend’s laugh.

“You, late night party? Your first week of school?” I can see his charming smile pulling at his beautiful face.

“Yes. My roommate and I went to Franklin St and ended up at a bar. And these frat guys invited us to a kegger they were having last night.”

“Is that right, Covey?” my man says unbelievingly, but I can hear a little quaver in his voice.

“Oh yes. You’ve seen a picture of Alexandria; she’s really pretty. Of course a guy is going to ask her out. Anyway, we spent the night drinking away and trying to keep the guys off of us,” I finish with a confident flourish. That will teach him to assume about me.

“You’re prettier Lara-Jean,” Peter whispers in the phone, sending tingles down my spine and goosebumps erupting on my flesh.

“Don’t tease me,” I whisper back, on cloud nine from his sweet words.

“It’s not a tease, babe, when I’m telling the truth.” I try not to melt in a puddle of goo.

“Thanks,” I say almost shyly.

Two years of dating and Peter K can still render me speechless.

“So you studied late night, right?” I hear the tease in his voice.

My happy Peter haze is officially over.

“Yes, Mr. know-it-all. And did some laundry as well. Happy?”

His robust laughter sounds so beautiful over the phone. I wish he were here, so I could grab him and shut his mouth up with mine.

“With you…always.”

“Peter, stop.” He is being quite sweet this morning, and the need to brush my teeth is mounting.

“Stop what, babe?” he asks in that disarmingly sexy voice. He really should have come with a warning label. “Giving compliments to my girl? Never. You deserve them every day, Lara-Jean.”

“I love you, too, handsome,” I mumble through my stained-pink cheeks. I even cover my head to hide my visceral reaction to him.

“Finally, she tells me!” he yells out loud. I want to smack his arm for being so silly.

“You’ve got it bad, Kavinsky,” I hear in the background.

I’m almost the color of a lobster knowing his roommate can hear our conversation.

“Fuck you,” is Peter’s eloquent reply. They are both laughing.

I would reprimand him for his language, but I have to agree with him on this one. I don’t want his roommate listening to us.

“So how was practice this week, babe?” I ask him, wanting to change the subject and listen forever to his silky voice.

“Hard, but getting better. Coach says I’m doing well …”

And on he goes.  
.  
.

After we hang up, my heart’s thumping still from talking to Peter Kavinsky, I sit up and jump slightly mid-stretch from the door banging open from my roommate.  
She has a scowl on her beautiful face and I can tell she isn’t the happiest. Of course I wouldn’t be either having to get to practice at seven in the morning on a Saturday.

“Sometimes I just want to give it all up,” she laments dramatically.

I know she’s only tired and aggravated. She would never quit dance. We may have only lived together for one week, but I can tell how much she loves dance. Her face absolutely lights up when taking about Ballet. Her side of the room is littered with dancing stuff, posters of famous dancers line her walls, and even her message board is filled with pictures of dance recitals of her past.

“You lie something awful, Alexandria,” I jokingly call her out.

She gives me a nasty look before a smile breaks the corner of her lips.

“You’re such a pain, LJ. And how many times have I told you to call me Lexie?” You know since we are roommates now, we have to have nicknames for each other.” Her hands go to her slender hips. “And I rather you  
not call me something like Bunny or Sugarplum. Muffin is open to discussion, though.”

I giggle hysterically at her.

Truly I lucked out in the roommate department. Especially for accepting and putting in my deposit at UNC so late.

As I get out of bed and head for my desk, I grab my can of Lysol. Jokingly I go over to Lexie and start to spray her feet. She screams from the coldness of the spray, grabs a pillow from her bed and starts to attack me.

We both end up laughing like crazy people.

My first week of college was quite good.

Even if my room now smells too much of lemony Lysol spray.  
.  
.


	2. ii:ii

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* * *

 

**From UNC, Love Lara Jean**

* * *

 “Hope

Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'...”

― Alfred Lord Tennyson

* * *

 

 

.

I try not to fiddle my fingers as I contemplate my advisor’s words.

The silence continues.

“Is that the only reason you are undeclared, Lara Jean?” I bite my bottom lip as I now think of an answer to her latest question…

“Well, umm,” I try.

My advisor gives me the patent look most adults in higher-education give to undecided youth, an indulgent smile with a mixture of patience and impatience and a hint of longing. It comes out as a wobbly grimace. Or perhaps this is the look I get from my teachers, professors and now student academic advisor.

The look says ‘ _Lara-Jean, you’re a sweet girl with potential, but pick a lane_ ,’ or something to that effect. It doesn’t bother me too much. Gogo and Kitty have given the look as well. Not to mention my white grandma thinking I am a scatterbrain.

I exhale loudly and look at Mrs. Drake. I decide to be adult Lara Jean. “Though I enjoyed high school and most of my courses, I felt like I didn’t have a course set, you know…” I want to smack my head. Of course she knows. Mrs. Drake works in the undeclared/open major office. I’m sure she sees tons and tons of freshman, year after year, hearing every ready excuse.

Not that we have to declare a major freshman year. I think this meeting is more of a formality and one to give me both advice and perhaps a purpose or avenue to choose.

“Anyhow, I do like school and learning new things. I take my grades and studies seriously. As to what I want to do for a career,” I pause and try not to bite my lips again, “that’s a little more difficult for me to decipher right now.”

I get another _wobbly grimace_. I wonder how she is able to deal with such undecided young adults on a daily basis.

“That’s understandable, Lara Jean. And that’s what college is all about: self-discovery, experimentation, learning about a higher purpose outside of oneself, and what’s important to you as a collective whole. There is an entire campus filled with possibilities and untapped outcomes.

I want to ask if she wrote the freshman brochure, but refrain. It may come off as rude.

“My most practical advice to you would be to stick with your general education classes. You’ve signed up for 15 credit hours, which I think you are more than capable of handling based off of your high-school transcripts.”

I nod.

“And if you do plan on transferring after your freshman year, then most of these credits should be transferable. That’s a smart and economical decision. As for taking any electives, I would hold off and just stick to your General-Ed classes. But again, if you find something that tickles your fancy class-wise, take a leap. One never knows what class can spark a lifetime love of learning and something one can make a career out of. And be sure to join as many clubs as you like. They can help break up the monotony of Gen-Ed classes and your everyday hum-drum of college life. They can add another layer of texture to your college experience.”

“Of course, Mrs. Drake. Thank you.” I give her my most grateful smile. I was quite nervous about this meeting, but she’s made it almost too easy.

“And Lara Jean, if you have any questions or concerns, you can always come to me, yes? You have my contact info in your welcome folder I already handed you.

Again, I nod gratefully.

“And just as importantly, there is info in your folder about mental health options available if you ever feel the need. UNC is here to help and support our students. Never, ever, ever be afraid to reach out, Miss Covey, okay?” I think she says my last name to put more importance on this issue.

I give her a confused look, I wonder if I have some crazed look on my face as if I find everything overwhelming and unable to cope. Perhaps my knee socks come off as too childish _. I should have dressed more professionally. I’m going to kill Lexie_ , I think. She assured me I looked fine.  

I gulp loudly and nod.

A happy laugh leaves my advisor’s shaking body.

“You’re going to be just fine, Lara Jean. I wasn’t singling you out. It is a speech, though redundant at times, needs to be made to each and every student. There are some life-changing and life-altering things happening in your young lives. It can be more than stressful and overwhelming. I just want you all to know there are available resources if needed.”

“Right. Thank you.” She gives me an indulgent smile. This is one I’m used to. Being such a good student in high school caused me to be a bit of a teacher’s pet. I’m used to this look, and it doesn’t bother me in the slightest.

“So, Miss Lara Jean Song-Covey, is there anything else you may need or require of me today?”

I give her my first honest, relieved smile of the morning.

“I’m good for now, Mrs. Drake. But thanks for all the great info and making time for me today. You’ve been great.”

We both stand and extend our hands out for a shake.

Before releasing my hand, Mrs. Drake leans further onto her desk and whispers, “My time is your time. And welcome UNC, Lara Jean. For however long it’s your home.”

“Thanks … again.”

I leave her with a wide smile and her office door shutting quietly behind me.

.

.

“You are such a teacher’s pet, Covey.”

I try not to scowl too much, even though Peter can’t see my facial reactions. Most times we can facetime, but with my being on campus and sitting on a bench, I’d rather keep that private, so we just talk on the phone for now. His voice is still soothing and great to listen to.

“You’re just jealous,” is my grown-up response.

“Hell yeah, babe,” my boyfriend easily admits. “My advisor was fine, but she was all “Keep doing what you’re doing, Mr. Kavinsky. Have a good term, Mr. Kavinsky. Make sure you win our first game of the year, Mr. Kavinsky. Good boy, Mr. Kavinsky.”

I giggle at his lame interpretation of his advisor. I’m sure it was better than he’s saying. Adults have a tendency to give that boy what he wants. It comes with his charm and unfairly handsome face.

“Sounds about par for the course, Peter. What were you expecting her to do, roll out the red carpet, fall to her knees and thank the heavens above you chose UVA?” I tease.

He sighs long-sufferingly. “You are so mean, Covey. Why do I keep you around?”

“Because you need someone to keep that big head of yours pinned to the ground, and because you loooove me.”

“That I do, Lara Jean. I love you more than you know.”

My cheeks bloom pink at his words, yet I curse him and his ability to turn me to mush.

“I love you, too, baby,” I say softly. It’s a pet name I use rarely (mostly sticking with “babe”), but my man simply loves when I call him “baby” in a soft whisper. He claims it stops his heart for a moment when he hears it slip from my lips.

He sighs again, “Damn, girl, you wound me.”

“Only in the best way possible, right?”

“Two weeks, Covey, and I’ll get to see you,” is his answer. He is just as anxious as me to touch, to feel the physical connection that comes with us being together.

“Can’t come soon enough.”

“Well, I better go, babe. I have a conditioning session I have to hit.”

“Okay,” I answer, already missing the sound of his voice.

After we hang up I allow only one solitary sigh to leave me before getting up. I should still have time to grab a quick snack before my next class.

And I’m quite sure I can find my way to both without going into my map.

_I think_ …

.

.

.

After I get home from classes, I curl up on my bed, grateful for a moment’s reprieve. It’s not that my day was overly taxing, I’m just tired and missing Peter. I know it’s quite pathetic, but I haven’t seen him in person for a couple of weeks.

We had practice, with my month away in Korea, but is still doesn’t lessen the sting of my missing him.

Sighing, I boot up my computer and pull up what I’m looking for.

Before leaving, Peter had handed me a jump drive and told me it was my college present. To say I was intrigued was an understatement. I really wasn’t expecting anything from him. Yes, I had gifted him with a new watch (not counting the scrapbook I made), reminding him he needed to be on time more often. The revenge tickle he gave me makes me smile still.

After waiting until my first night here (as per his instructions) I uploaded what was on the jump drive, and while watching, was left in tears.

I knew my boyfriend could be romantic, but this proved he raised the bar on himself.

As I now upload the video, I feel tingles start to tickle the base of my spine. I can feel the happy tears start to pool in my eyes. It’s not that I’m sad per se, just missing him extra hard today.

“Hey, Covey,”

_The video starts_.

On screen is Peter, giving me that smile which makes my stomach take flight and my knees to buckle. I know it sounds awfully cliché, but it’s true. My man makes me feels things no one else can.

He hastily runs his fingers through his hair, before looking back at the camera and smiling and looking back at me from under his long lashes.

“I want you to know I’m extremely proud of you. For getting into UNC.” He takes a deep breath before giving me a wobbly smile. I wish I could reach out and caress his handsome face.

“For being such an amazing girlfriend, and for being such an amazing woman.”

He winks something sinful.

“If I were to list all the things I love about you, we’d be here all day, but to name a few of my favorite, well let’s see…” He picks up his hand and starts to list while counting on his fingers.

“You are loyal to a fault, you are very giving of yourself and your talents, you love your family something fierce, you are an amazing sister to Margot, and especially Kitty, you forgive easy, you dream unrepentantly, you sometimes have that beautiful head of yours in the clouds, you smile for no reason whatsoever, you’re smart, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you are so beautiful in your innocence’s. You have these pie-in-the-sky ideas and it brings a radiance to your face, Lara Jean. It’s in those moments I fall the most in love with you. And most of all, you came back to me.”

Okay my tears start to fall at his words. Peter often claimed he didn’t know how to be romantic, but he lied. This video proves otherwise.

“When I was a bastard, or taking someone else’s side over yours, you gave me patience and understanding.” He looks almost shy as he continues, “And for that, I can’t thank you enough, Lara Jean. I know we’re young and will change in many ways over the next few years, but I hope the thing that will change the most is my love for you. I hope it deepens, matures, and never falls far from you.”

I wrap my arms around my chest, trying to slow my beating heart. If possible, I’m sure it would leave my chest and go to Peter Kavinsky.

“So, thanks for writing me a letter, thanks for being my first kiss, thanks for seeing something in me that I couldn’t see in myself, thanks for being you, and thanks for continuing to take a chance on me, babe.”

As I wipe the fallen tears from my reddened-checks, and try to watch through my swollen eyes, music starts to swell in the background of the video. And like magic, Peter K starts singing to me.

It’s one of the many things I love about him – his clean, even, gorgeous singing voice. At times, I’d have to beg him to sing to me, him knowing how much I love his voice.

But for my gift, he’s made me a video of him singing.

As the music swells his clear voice starts,

“ _Ain’t never felt this way…_

_Can’t get enough so stay with me…_

_It’s not like we got big plans…_

_Let’s drive around town holding hands…_

_And you need to know, you’re the only one, alright, alright…_

_And you need to know, that you keep me up all night, all night…_

“ _Oh, my heart hurts so good …_

_I love you, babe, so bad, so bad…_

_Oh yeah…_

_Oh my hearts hurt so good…_

_I love you, babe, so bad, so bad_ …”

How could I not fall in love with him over and over again watching this video. Him singing Lany’s, “ILYSB” makes me love him _so bad_.

.

.

.

My dorm door closing pulls me from my musings of the future, and what a lovey picture it is.

“Don’t even get me started on how hungry I am. My en pointe teacher was a royal pain today. ‘You need to turn out more, Alexandria,’ …  ‘You call that fourth position,’” Lexie complains mimicking her professor.

I give lots of respect to Lexie; what she does and the dedication it takes to be a ballet dancer is amazing. I didn’t realize the discipline it takes to be such a graceful, effortless, beautiful dancer. They make it look almost too easy.

“Long day?” I ask, trying to sympathize with my roommate.

“Like you won’t even believe. Like take this afternoon …”

She finally turns towards me and stop talking. I try and hide myself under my covers, knowing I must look affright.

“Were you watching that video again, LJ?” she asks knowingly, exacerbated. I must look guilty with my red puffy eyes, hair a mess, laptop hugged closely to my chest (trying to keep his video closer to my heart).

I nod.

She exhales loudly, smiling indulgently at me.

“You know it only makes you cry when you watch it, so why torture yourself, hmm?”

I shrug my shoulder helplessly. “I missed him today, that’s all.”

I haven’t shown her the video Peter made me, or anyone else for that matter. It is too special to share with anyone else.

Lexie walks over to me and tries to straighten my mussed hair. “He must be something special to have someone like you, LJ.”

I can’t help but blush at her compliment. Alexandria is the epitome of beauty, elegance. She makes brushing her teeth look like an art form. And for her to compliment me always makes me feel shy.

“Here’s what we are going to do; you’re going to wash your face, try and wrestle your hair into order and we are going out. I’m starving and am in need of some calories. So get your glum behind up and out of bed. Food is calling my name.”

She gives me a light tap on my rump, causing me to yelp. I thought only athletes hit each other on the bum. I guess Lexie would be considered one.

“Fine, but no more butt-slapping,” I say, trying to control my spreading blush.

“I make no promises, LJ. Sometimes a girl just needs something to get her going, yeah?” she wiggles her brows suggestively.

“You’re awful,” I say, trying to smother my giggling laughter.

“And you love me.”

I may have only known her for a couple of weeks, but I do love Lexie. She is one of a kind.

As we lock up our room and make our way down the hall she says, “So you’re going to show me that video, right. And please tell me your boyfriend is at least shirtless.”

I give a scandalous shriek, and try to swallow it back down between my laughter.

“Not on your life, Lexie,”

She smacks my behind again in retaliation as she takes off running.

I give chase, yelling and laughing at her the entire way.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thank you to all who reviewed, favored, read and showed interest in my little slice of TATBILB. 
> 
> This chapter was fun to write and so nostalgic. It hasn’t been too long since I was in university, but it has such a happy place in my heart, and being here with Lara Jean has been wonderful. I so enjoy writing her POV. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts, if you want. 
> 
> Until next time …


	3. iii:iii

.

* * *

**From UNC, Love Lara Jean**

* * *

 

“Sometimes I think I need a spare heart to feel all the things I feel.”

― Sanober Khan

* * *

 

**.**

Breathes of relief run through me as I finish my last paper for my English Lit class. It’s not that my classes are terrible difficult, just the amount of work that goes into each is quite a lot.

But thankfully, it’s the weekend (well, Friday night, but that counts still) and Peter is scheduled to arrive Saturday morning, after his last strengthening session.

I go to check my phone, seeing if I missed any calls or texts from him. It’ been three weeks since we’ve seen each other in person, and my skin is all but crawling to touch him, to feel him, to smother him in kisses.

With no missed messages, I sigh and will him to call me.

Happily, I bring up the text from Kitty last night. I feel my eyes mist over as I stare at the pictures of her and Peter’s _date_. They are too adorable.

I cannot think of many boyfriends who have such a close relationship with their girlfriend’s siblings (independent of said girlfriend). However, Peter and Kitty are quite close. I know they talk often on the phone, and when possible, Peter will go and pick her up for an ice cream date. Kitty may try and play it cool, but she simply adores Peter something awful.

**_Dad took these for me. Don’t be too jealous, Lara Jean_**. My bratty sister captioned the photos.

The first picture is of her and Peter hugging. She has her face buried in his chest, and I can only imagine she’s trying to hide her blush. I would tell Kitty to not worry, Peter has that effect on many people.

The second picture is of Kitty in peals of laughter as Peter tickles her sides. She claims to hate being tickled by him, but she secretly loves it.

The third picture is of Kitty with bright pink cheeks posing with Peter and his arm thrown around her skinny shoulders. His hair is out of place and falling into his eyes. So, so, so sexy he is.

I have to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning out loud at his handsome face.

My heart swells as I stare at the pictures. If I didn’t love him, seeing these pictures would send me head over feet. Sometimes I truly think he’s too good to be real.

After dropping her off last night, Peter had called me,

.

“Should I be jealous,” I asked after picking up.

His musical laughter filled my ears.

“Hello to you, too, Covey.”

“Well, Peter Kavinsky?” I continued to enquired. “Those are pretty incriminating pictures of you cheating on me. And with my sister no less.”

“Are you jealous, sweetness?” he countered. His voice had dropped an octave and had a husky quality to it. Shivers went deliciously down my spine.

“Umm,” I replied eloquently, trying to suppress his effect on my body. Thankfully Lexie was at our friend’s dorm room down the hall.

“Would you rather it was you in my arms, my hands on you, my lips trailing along your neck, licking your skin …”

“Baby,” I all but moaned. I needed him near me. I wanted to feel his words being breathed into my skin, feel his hands doing everything he said. It was sometimes very difficult having him far from me. I could even feel tears start to sting my eyes.

“Lara Jean,” he said softly, pleadingly, “don’t cry.” I wiped my eyes, wondering how he knew me so well and could even tell I was starting to tear up.

“I’m not crying,” I said in a shaky voice, trying to control my stupid emotions.

“I miss you, too, Covey. But I’ll be there in two days.” I sighed happily. “Two days.”

“I can’t wait, baby,” I whispered, trying to maintain my emotions. “And I’m always jealous of the time you spend with others. They get to see you and I don’t.” It wasn’t often that I complained to him about our separation.

It was my choice to come to UNC.

And after Peter realized I wasn’t leaving him behind, he became all kinds of supportive of my choice. Of course he wanted me to be closer at William and Mary, but he also wanted me to realize my dreams, and those came at a cost. Some days that cost just seemed higher than others.

“I hate that others get to spend time with you, too, and not me. I can only imagine the guys that try and get with you, Covey.”

I giggled at his accusations. There was no line of guys knocking at my door, asking me for dates. They were for Lexie.

“You are seriously mistaken, Peter. That role would fall to Lexie.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. What about that Kevin guy?”

“His name is Calvin, and he’s my study partner for English Lit. As you very well know.”

My man scoffed so cutely. “And besides, _I’m_ the one with pictures on my phone with you and another girl.” I facetiously reprimanded him.

“Are you sure that’s not you, babe.” I laughed at his answer, “She sure as hell looked a lot like you.”

“Likely excuse, Peter Kavinsky.”

“Are you going to punish me when I get there, hmm, sweetness?”

Oh hell, I could feel my heartrate increase again. It was unfair how he could change the direction of our conversation so effortlessly.

“Spank my ass, perhaps, Covey?”

“Never mind your ass,” I said in between giggles.

“Never mind whose ass?” Lexie asked, as she came back to our room, trying not to laugh at my red face. “Oh, LJ, are you having naughty phone sex with boyfriend?” she teased while wagging her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

“No,” I said scandalously.

“Yes, so scram” Peter yelled through the phone.

Lexie playfully grabbed the phone from me.

“No can do, Peter, Lexie needs her sleep and has an early class tomorrow, so you and girlfriend keep the moans to a low volume. Okay?”

“No promises,” I heard answered as Lexie handed me back the phone and plopped on her bed.

“Your boyfriend is something else, LJ,” she laughed between yawns.

I crawled into my bed as well, and covered myself up to my neck in blankets.

“You tired, sweetness?” Peter asked me. I’m not sure where he picked up the pet-name, but I found myself adoring it. I hoped he saw me as such. I knew I could be zany, silly, and standoffish at times, but I hoped under it all, he saw me that way.

“Yeah, baby.” I stifled a yawn. “But miss you more.”

“Two days, yeah?”

“Mmmhmm,” I mumbled. “And thanks, you know, for spending time with Kitty. She loves you, too, Peter.”

“Wow, two Covey girls love me. How did I get so lucky?”

“I jumped you in the hall and kissed your brains out, if I remember correctly.” I teased.

He inhaled sharply. I could only imagine what he was thinking.

“Two fucking days, Covey, and you better kiss my brains out again.”

I squeezed my legs together, trying not to be embarrassed at the reaction he caused me to have with just his voice.

“That I can easily promise.” I yawned again. Even though I wanted to continue our naughty talk, I was tired and had an early class. Why I made my schedule on Friday with an early class, I’ll never know. Just one of those harebrained ideas of mine.

“Stay with me on the phone?” I asked, my eyes already drooping.

“Always, Lara Jean.”

.

“You have it bad, LJ.”

I can only nod at Lexie. There’s no use in denying it. She’s caught me too many times staring at pictures on my phone of Peter.

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask, jokingly, but also a little worried that I may be obsessed.

I trust my roommate and her opinions. She has become like a sister to me, and someone in my circle of friends whom I love dearly.

“Not at all, darling. You love him and he loves you. Where’s the bad in that?”

Such a simple answer, but still profound to me.

“Some would say we are too young to be so in love, and we should have broken up. You know, explore other options.” I hide behind my hair as I think about Peter’s mom, and even Gogo.

Lexie leans over me at my desk chair and cuddles me close. I lean my face into her neck. I feel so maudlin today. I’ve been in my head too much. I’m just anxious for Peter to get here.

“Their opinion is just that, an opinion. Same as mine. Yeah.” She soothingly runs her fingers through my hair. Most of it has fallen out from the bun I had it in earlier. “All that matters is what you and Peter feel, think and want. Everything else is just white noise.”

She kisses the top of my head before giving me one last squeeze and letting go.

“So now that we have that out of the way, it’s time to get up and dressed, LJ.”

I slump further in my seat. On most nights I’d be all for going out and having fun with our group of friends, but I want to get a good night sleep before Peter comes tomorrow morning. My heart positively beats out of my chest just thinking about seeing him.

“And no arguments, LJ. Up and at them, we promised everyone we’d go.” I close my mouth; there’s no use arguing with her when she’s right.

I throw the covers from my shoulders in a dramatic fashion and stand up from my desk.

“And no pouting. Your skin is too beautiful to have such wrinkles at an early age.”

I laugh at my roommate. She truly is a God-send.

With some happiness in my heart at both my roommate and Peter’s visit tomorrow, I go and get ready. Tonight should be fun.

Not that I have any plans to sing at the karaoke bar we’re going to tonight. I can’t help but think of my last experience at one.

“Now, I think that cute pink skirt and your frilly white shirt would look cute.”

I go to argue, telling her it’s too dressy for tonight, but she gives me an I-know-better look, so I go along with her whims. She’s kind of like Kitty in that regard. 

.

.

As the song finishes, I clap enthusiastically for Latisha. The girl has a good voice. I couldn’t even try to match her skills. And I loved her song choice of Beyoncé, ‘If I Were a Boy’. Sometimes that song rings all too true.

But I shake those thoughts and listen to our other friend Smita being introduced. She’s chooses ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’, and as the chorus swells she waves us all to start singing with her.

Through peals of laughter, I can barely make out the words. Meanwhile Lexie, Jordan and Latisha are taking pictures and recording of us all making fools of ourselves with their phones. Humiliation for further generations to watch, I guess.

By the times she’s finished, I have to wipe the tears from my cheeks, and the sweat from the back of my neck. It sure is hot in here.

After going to the bathroom and washing my hands and face, and trying repair my make-up, I return and take large gulps of my water.

Lexie is busy texting on her phone, and when I go to ask her if everything is fine, she removes the frown from her face and put on a plastic smile.

She takes a deep sip from her drink and takes her turn at the mike.

“Okay all, this song is dedicated to all my girlfriends here tonight, and all you potential lovers out there.”

Lexie gives our group a big smile, does a fancy twirl, which has many in the bar cheering, and starts to sing as her music is queued up. We all start to cheer and scream as ‘Wannabe’ from Spice Girls starts to play.

We start to dance along with the beat and singing in when the chorus hits: “ _If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends, make it last forever, friendship never ends_.”

And though Lexie doesn’t have the best voice, she can still carry the song, and put in dance moves that more than makes up for her voice. In fact, a lot of the people in the bar look as if they’d love to be her lover. Not that I blame them; that girl is quite the catch.

Lexie winds down and takes her bows, and runs to our table. She grabs my hands and tells our other friends we’ll be back. Why she needs a partner for the bathroom, I don’t know. Yet I humor my roommate and wait patiently as she does her business, washes her face and hands, and tries to calm down.

“Damn that’s such a high, LJ. You sure you don’t wanna sing?” I immediately shake my head. “I’ll go up there with you.”

Again I shake my head no. “You know the deal to get me to agree coming here, Lex.” She gives me a spoilsport smile, before pulling me back to our table.

As we make our way back, she has to stop at the bar and get us drinks, which I just roll my eyes. (“Mine at the table is too warm, LJ. Just let me get a cold drink. What’s your rush to get back to the table?”)

I stop my eye-rolling and allow her to order us Cokes. As we wait, a song I know starts to play, it takes me back to prom: dancing, Peter singing and me falling even more in love.

Unbidden tears cloud my eyes. Music is such a magic of its own (Harry Potter, thank you very much) and it’s amazing how it can pull at one’s heartstring like no other.

My heart (already beating from all the dancing) takes off at lightning speed.

Without realizing, I feel Lexie grab my hand and lead me past our table and to the front of the stage. In front of me singing, “Let’s Stay Together” is no other than Peter Kavinsky.

_Peter Kavinsky_.

I am shocked beyond belief. Shocked, amazed, stunned, in love, happy, tearful, and in complete all of my boyfriend.

One of his beautiful winks pulls me from my stupor and causes my stomach to free fall to my feet. His voice pulls me from inside my head.

“ _Cause you make me feel so brand new. And I want to spend my life with you. The same things, baby, since we’ve been together. Oh, loving you, forever, is what I need. Let me be the one you come running to. I’ll never be untrue_ …

“ _Loving you whether, whether times are good and happy or sad_ …”

My heart is so full; I can barely stand it. Tears are happily coursing down my face. I can hardly take in his beautiful face, can hardly hear his clean, smooth voice over my pounding heart.

I’m so overcome.

Before the song can even finish, before I realize what the HELL I’m doing, I run up on stage, pull Peter from the mike, jump on him, and starting kissing him as if the world will end in the next second, as if I will never kiss him again, as if I love him with my entire being.

Tears are mingling with our lips, and making our kisses taste salty, but I could care less.

His lips are home to me, and it’s a place I haven’t been to in a while; in too long.

His hands curl under my legs as he lifts me higher, pulls me tighter and literally takes all the breath from my body with his engulfing kisses. “Love, you, Covey,” he whimpers between my lips seeking his, my tongue tangling with his, my tears soaking his face.

In the background I can barely make out cat calls, whoops and my friends screaming for me to “Go Girl.”

But they could all disappear for all I know. I’m so in to Peter that everything outside of him becomes silence.

Finally pulling from his lips, for fearing my heart will stop if I keep kissing him, I rest my head against his chest. I’m still crying and shaking uncontrollably, but my man has me well in hand. Finally, after an eternity in his eyes, I slide down his body and raise up on my tip-toes (he’s so tall and handsome) and kiss all over his face.

There’s a light tapping on my shoulders. I go to yell at whoever is interrupting my Peter-time and hear spoken into a mike, Ladies and gentlemen my roommate “LJ, and her boyfriend, Pete. Can we give them a round of applause?”

Finally realizing my surrounds, my cheeks instantly flame red as I hide my face in Peter’s chest. This is so embarrassing, but I find myself giggling oh so happily in my hiding space.

“Thanks, everyone,” I hear Peter yell. “This will be a one-time performance.” The crowd goes wild with cat-calls and loud screams.

Surprisingly, Peter spins me from his body and under his arm. And while I stand there with pink cheeks, wet skin and the silliest of smiles on my face, my handsome and confidant man takes a bow.

As giggles erupt from my body, I all but run off the stage, pulling Peter K with me. I bypass my table (my friends look at me with huge-eyes and a little more respect, and look at Peter in amazement), bypass the bar and run out into the night cool night air.

Once outside, I turn around, step up on my tiptoes, pull my man down to my level and start to kiss him all over again. He goes to speak, but I shut him up. We’ve done nothing but 3 weeks of speaking. Right now, I simply want to feel his lips on mine. Feel his breath on my tongue, feel my hands in his soft hair. Feel the hard lines of his body on my softer one. I simply want to know he’s really here and standing in front of me.

I’m never this forceful when making out, but I missed him so damn much. The ache I’ve felt for him over the last three weeks is being unleashed in my need to kiss him all over.

My lips finally pull from his and covers his cheeks, eyes, nose and forehead. I love him so very much.

As his hands go under my shirt, to feel the skin on my back, I hear someone clearing their throat.

At this point I’m far too gone to be embarrassed. I could give a flying toss what anyone thinks at my public display of affection. But with great resolve, I pull my lips from Peter’s after one lingering kiss to his forehead.

“Thought you’d never breath again, LJ,” Lexie jokes as I turn around and finally, finally, finally give her my attention. However, I’m sure not to stop touching Peter.

I lean back against him and rub my check against his chest.

“Neither did I, Lex,” I answer her truthfully.

More happy tears fall from my eyes, as I take in Peter’s smell of detergent and cologne. I close my eyes as I cuddle further into my man.

“Hi, I’m Peter. Sorry for the non-introduction,” he lightly teases. He unwraps one arm from around my waist and extends his hand to Lexie. I feel terrible for not making the introductions myself, but I’m just too overcome with emotions.

“No sorry needed, Peter,” she giggles in between words. “I’m just happy to see my LJ so happy and out of her slight funk.”

I finally pull my face from Peter’s chest and stick my tongue out at her. “Just as I suspected, LJ, your tongue is quite red and puffy from its workout.”

Rumbling laughter erupts in Peter’s chest from my roommate’s jest, and I bury my face back in his chest, trying to hide my hot blushes. I opened myself up to that one.

“Well, kids, I’m going back inside. You two, perhaps, get a room, yeah. You’ve given everyone enough of a show tonight.”

“I like you, Lexie,” Peter laughs. “And thanks for helping me set my girl up tonight.”

At this, I look over at my roommate, and then up at my boyfriend. They both wink at me.

I go to pull away, feeling my hands wanting to go to my waist and demand to know what’s what. But Peter puts his hand under my chin and pulls my face to his. He quiets me with several tingling kisses.

“And on that note, I’ll see you tomorrow, LJ. And you as well, Peter. You both enjoy.”

I reluctantly pull from Peter’s lips and turn to her. “What do you mean tomorrow? Where will you be tonight?”

“I’m sleeping at Smita’s tonight. Have fuuuun.” She winks, opens the door to the karaoke bar and walks away with a skip to her step and a flick of her beautiful hair.

If I didn’t love Lexie already, my heart would fall heavily for her. She is too good to me sometimes.

“Hi, sweetness,” Peter whispers in my ear, kisses my neck and pulls my face to his. We stare at each other, trying hard not to fall into the other for good.

“Hi, baby,” I whimper back, so overcome with his surprise tonight. I’m so incredibly happy.

I hug him around the waist as I snuggle back into his chest. I take in everything about him, so needing this moment to be true and not a made-up fantasy of mine.

Playfully, he picks me up, places several kisses to my neck. I squeal while trying to pull away.

“Have enough of me already, Covey.”

I give a quick kiss to his swollen lips. “Never.”

He drops me gently to my feet while grabbing my hand.  

“Come on, Lara Jean. Let’s get back to your dorm. I want you to myself. Does that sound okay?”

“Hell yes,” I say emphatically, causing Peter to laugh rousingly. It’s not often I curse, but damn I need to be with him by myself, no interruptions.

I place a kiss to his heart and allow him to pull me along.

I love him so very much.

I’m simply overcome.

.

.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks to all who reviewed, and liked the last one. Hope you liked this chapter, as well. It was too much fun to write, and I just love Lara Jean and Peter. Just too cute. If you’d like, I’d love to know your thoughts. Until next time, hugs.


	4. iv:iv

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* * *

  **From UNC, Love Lara Jean**

* * *

 “Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear, your head like the golden rod,

And we will go sailing away from here to the beautiful Land of Nod.”

_****−_ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

* * *

 .

What would have normally taken 20 minutes to get home from the karaoke bar, takes close to 40 minutes. But it really doesn’t matter. Peter is actually here – literally – and I’m entranced by him. After getting slightly lost (which I blame on his handsome face and close proximity to me), and finding a space in visitor parking, we make our way back to my dorm room.

I hold my breath and squeeze his hand I’m clutching before opening my door. He’s seen before my room while face-timing, but he’s actually here (be-still by pounding heart) and about to step in my personal space. I know it’s ridiculous to feel shy around my boyfriend ‘two years’ into our relationship, but Peter has that effect on me still.

Whatever the reason, I hold my breath as I reach for the light, walk backwards into my room and pull Peter in by our clasped hand. We stare at each other intently, not wanting to take our eyes off each other for even a second. The moment is tense, powerful and gorgeous. My stomach hasn’t stopped free-falling since my attacking him on stage.

His overnight bag drops with a heavy thump as the hand holding it comes to the apples of my cheeks and starts caressing my skin. I can’t help but let my eyes flutter close as I burrow my face in his touch. Too long it’s been.

I place a kiss to the palm of his hand, open my eyes, and give him the happiest smile I can muster.

“So glad you’re here.”

A wobbly splits his beautiful lips.

“Me too, sweetness.”

I give one more kiss to his hand before removing it from my face and clasping it tightly between my own. I don’t want him getting too far from me.

“So, this is home.”

I take a look around my room and wince a little. My side is a little messy with different clothes thrown about. I blame Lexie, of course. She insisted on the outfit I’m actually wearing (which I admit is beautiful and quite romantic for the situation), but I had to try on different ones just to make sure.

Her side is put together and neat. She insisted on straightening her side before we left, and now I know why. _She is such a horror_ , I think with humor.

Peter looks around, taking in everything, and I can’t help but wonder what he thinks about my personal space. At home, Peter had been in my room, but we hadn’t spent much time in it. I much preferred to make-out in his room, surrounding by his stuff and his wonderful scent.

“It sure is you, Covey.” A wicked smile plays on his lips.

“And what does that mean?” I give him an intimidating frown.

Peter laughs, places several smacking kisses to my frowning lips before pulling me into his side. His response is muffled by his snuggling into my hair; I can’t help but blush happily at his response.

“It’s whimsical like you. So imaginative you are in that mind of yours.” I burrow further into his chest trying to hide my happy smile. “It’s certainly girly like you, sweetness. A little messy like your room at home.” I give him a light poke to his stomach, which doesn’t hurt him in the least. He feels even more toned than ever; I try not to lick my lips at the thought.

“But most of all, it screams you, and I love it like I love you.”

That deserves a kiss. I pull from him, bundle his shirt in my hand and pull his face down to mine. “Love you, too, baby.” I lick my lips before placing them on his. Our kiss is gentle, soothing, and so very soul-tingling. I can’t help but welcome his seeking tongue into my mouth, wanting him to taste me, to taste the love all but pouring from my heart. His hands get lost in my curled hair, angling my head just right.

I give in, letting him kiss me to my soul.

With a few more light pecks, he pulls back and places his forehead on mine. We are both breathing heavily, our hot exhales caressing my skin.

“I missed you so fucking much, Lara Jean. Fuck, so much.”

“I missed you too, Peter K.”

I stare up at him through my fallen hair. He is too handsome to describe. And not just his outward appearance. His entire being. That he’d drive for hours after his long practice today to see me, to have extra time with me, to go the extra mile to surprise me is brilliant.

I lift my arms and wait for him to wrap his around my waist, hug me soundly and pick me up. I know it’s silly in this day and age for a woman to want to be swept off her feet, but I love when Peter does that to me. I love his strength, the feel of his muscles on my body, the feel of my heart as is patters so heavily from fast beats.

Gently, he places me on the bed, and relaxes between my opened thighs.

We stare at each other, not saying anything, just looking. I trace his face with my eyes, taking in the changes since I saw him last, taking in his alluring beauty and messy hair (which gives him that sweet boy-next-door look).

His fingers find their way to my face, following the lines and angles. As his finger slides down, my nose, I can’t help but giggle and scrunch up my face.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers on my neck. I giggle from his breath tickling me. “What,” he smirks, “you are. So soft.” His fingers slides to my cheek and chin, “So beautiful. So special.” Over my lips and down to under my chin his fingers rest. “And so mine.”

“Yours,” I agree.

His lips descend on mine as I can’t help but close my eyes as sweet whimpers escape me. Hungrily his mouth opens and works so fully over mine. I’m all but lost to him as our mouths caresses each other’s, reacquaints with each other’s, devour each other’s.

My legs tighten around my man’s waist, pulling him as close to me as possible. I can never imagine getting enough of him, of getting close enough to him.

Urgently his hands find the bare flesh along my back, massaging each part he touches. I arch into his chest, shivering at the pure emotion of our situation, luxuriating in having him so close to me.

I pull my lips from his, needing to taste the skin along his corded throat. My tongue finds nirvana as I take in everything about my man. His smell is all but intoxicating.

“Yours,” I pant in between lingering kisses and licks I put on his neck. He pulls me tighter to him, his hands curling along the sides of my bare back. His panting breaths sound so desperate near my ear. And I’m actually proud to take someone like Peter to that place, to that desperation.

“Mine,” I say as I bite (yes actually bite, silly Lara Jean) his neck. Not too hard, but enough for him to get the message. He’s mine, and that’s the way it will stay.

“Happily, sweetness,” Peter huffs outs.

Our lips return together like magnetic north: seeking, needing, wanting each other so very much. It’s all so, so intense.

Out of breath, Peter pulls back, rests his head on my shoulder and tries to even out his gasping. He sounds amazingly sexy. I want to tell him, but still I’m a little timid about saying such things aloud.

I’m so moulded to his body that I can feel quite literally what’s causing him so much discomfort and heavy pants. Biting my lip, I run my fingers through his soft hair before kissing along the shell of his ear.

“We can, Peter. I want you.” My heart starts to pound double-time at my inviting words.

“Goodness, Covey, give me a moment, yeah.” He places wet kisses along the juncture where shoulder meets neck. His breaths are so hot, heavy, _delicious_.

“Why,” I moan unfairly in his ear. I know he’s trying to calm our situation, but I want to go on. After two years of dating (on-and-off), I’m ready.

“Because, Lara Jean. I’m so fucking turned on I won’t last that long.” My cheeks pink at his words. They make me both proud and happy. Quirky Lara Jean Song Covey is becoming a woman.

“Umm, oh,” I say stupidly, pleasingly.

“Yeah _. Oh_. And you don’t have to sound so smug about it, either.”

I can’t help but laugh delightfully at him. I’m just so deliriously happy he’s here.

As retribution, Peter blows a loud raspberry in my neck, changing my laughter to squeals. I try to get away from him, but his strength is too much. He continues to torture my neck as tears of mirth pour from my eyes.

“Not so self-assured now, are we, Lara Jean?”

“Oh you know big words now?” I ask in return.

“That’s it, Covey,” is his war cry as he pushes me back onto the bed, climbs on top of me, straddles my thighs as he tickles me mercilessly. “I’m smart, too,” he proclaims between wet kisses to my face, nose, and tickles to my sides.

“Eww, Peter,” I squeal happily. “That’s your saliva on my face.”

He gives me a long lick up my turned neck to the backside of my ear, before nipping on my lobe. “You weren’t complaining earlier, were you, when my tongue was shoved so far down your throat, sweetness.”

I can’t even pretend to stop the shivers running the length of my flesh at his words. “god, you play unfair, Peter,” I complain while pouting.

“Well, you inspire me, sweetness.”

I try to stay pouting, but it falls from my lips as a huge smile spreads over them. Again, I try to smother my smile by rubbing my lips together, but I fail.

Peter causes me to scream-laugh as he rolls over, takes me with him, and plants my chest on his. He’s now laying at the top of my bed, with me spread over him, all but moulded to his chest with his arms weighing me down at the waist.

I hear the heavy thump of his shoes as they hit the floor. He’s respectful that way in taking them off and not putting them on my bed.

Unsuspectingly he blows another raspberry in my neck, before playfully kissing my cheeks and nose. I pull my legs out from under me and fully extend on his lithe frame. If he wants me on top of him, I’m going to take advantage. I tangle my legs with his, trying to be a little mindful of my skirt turning up.

I fold my hands over his chest and lay my head on them, using them as a temporary pillow.

A kiss is placed on the crown of my head as Peter rests his hands on the exposed skin of my back, where my shirt has ridden up. He places soft caresses along the bare strip; I quiver at his touch.

“This is all I wanted tonight, Lara Jean.” I snuggle my body further into his, needing to be as close to him as possible. His hands mould around my hips to stop my squirming.

“And what’s that, baby?” I ask contently, dreamily, so very happily.

“To be here with you. To feel you near me, and for me to whisper _I love you_.” Which he does so sweetly in my ear.

I kiss his chest, above his thumping heart. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing those words fall from his lips.

“Love you.” I put another kiss to his chest before cuddling him.

And the silence that fills the air around us is magnificently content.

.

.

A shifting pulls me from my sleep. Not wanting to quite wake up, I scrunch my face and try to burrow further into my soft pillow, but met with a hardness instead.

A soft rumbling sounds too loudly in my ear. “No need to wake up, sweetness. Sleep for longer if you’d like.”

Tickling kisses are placed on my neck.

Peter … last night … surprising me … making out … sweet laughter. All these memories assault me as my mind starts to awaken.

I go to stretch, but find my body is quite achy. I guess falling asleep on my boyfriend and staying that way most of the night can do that to a person.

Before I can move anymore, Peter’s alarm goes off, playing a song I’m familiar with.

His beautiful husky morning voice starts to accompany the song, “ _Ain’t never felt this way, can’t get enough so stay with me. It’s not like we got big plans. Let’s drive around town holding hands_.”

A mega-watt smile spreads over my tired face.

Can my boyfriend surprise me anymore?

I groan a little as I raise my chest off of his and look so lovingly at his face.

“This is your alarm, baby?”

“It helps me to think about you first thing in the morning.”

I bit my bottom lip to stop it from quivering. Sometimes I love him so very much.

His hand traces my sleepy face. I can feel him tracing the creases on my face from his shirt. I must have fallen asleep on him and never moved. Not that he seems to mind, if his hardness between his legs is any indication.

“I love you.” I can’t stop my heart from fluttering.

“ _Oh my heart hurts so good, I love you (yeah), so bad, so bad_.”

I’m officially lost to Peter K. And I’ve lost my war with my tears as they happily run down my warm cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Lara Jean,” he whispers, wiping my face; I stare at this man in wonder. He cocks his head to the side and down towards me. I happily move up his body so I’m level with his face. “It’s too early in the morning for that.”

Soft giggles escape me. “Then don’t make me,” I argue back, kissing his slightly swollen lips. I bury my face in his neck and can’t help but burrow further into him.

His arms secure me to him, running the length of my hair and back, in a most soothing routine.

“What time is it?” I mumble into his skin, and try not to laugh as he tries to suppress goosebumps erupting on his flesh.

“Six in the morning.”

“WHAT?” I squawk, his laughter sounds loud under my ear. I try to move but he holds me still.

“I wake up this time most mornings, Covey. I usually run a few miles before starting my day.”

Well that sounded just ghastly. I loved my sleep too much to wake up at six every morning. As he goes to move, and tries to shimmy out from under me, I growl at him. “What’re you doing?”

“Didn’t I just explain that, hmm?” He pokes my cheek with his nose before placing a kiss there.

“But it’s Saturday.”

“No excuse.” He kisses my other cheek.

“But you’re here to see me, and our time’s short as is.”

This gives him pause and he stops mid-kiss to my lips.

I growl again at him before pulling his gorgeous lips to mine.

Before I can take it too deep, he slowly pulls away, still licking me with his tongue. Goodness, I have to squeeze my legs together to stop from jumping him something awful.

“You go back to sleep, sweetness, and by the time you awake, I’ll be back.” He is successful in getting out from under me. I groan at both the loss of his body under mine, and how sore I feel.

As his feet hit the ground he turns around, bends overs me and stares at my face while moving the hair from my eyes. “I won’t be too long, okay?” His lips feel incredibly soft on mine, and as I go to grab the back of his head, wanting to keep his lips on mine, he laughs and pulls away. “Nice try, Covey.”

I rub the sleep from my eyes and pop out of bed. I groan as I get up, but it’s a most pleasant soreness. It’s something I’d feel every morning if I could wake up with Peter near me.

“What’re you doing?”

“Going with you, of course.” I give me a “duh” look.

“And where am I going, then?” He waggles his brows.

“Didn’t you just explain that: running, DUH.”

He grabs me before I can even scream and plants his mouth on mine.

“Such a smart ass.” He smacks my butt before turning around and grabbing his duffel bag.

I bite my lip and try not to smile too widely. He’s too much sometimes.

I place a kiss to the back of his shoulder blades as he bends over and gets out his running gear and shoes. I can’t seem to keep my hands and lips off him, not that he’s complaining much.

As he goes to take off his button-down off from last night (I can’t believe we both slept in our clothes) I quickly turn around and will my cheeks not to burn.

I can hear him shedding clothes and putting new ones on. I go through my drawers and find a comfortable pair of sweat pants with a hoodie. There is no way I plan on running, but the mornings have been cool in late September.

Without taking off my skirt I slip my sweats on, and then lower my skirt. It is impossibly wrinkled. Charging myself not to overthink it, I pull my frilly shirt from my body and drop it on my desk chair before replacing it with my hoodie. I put on a cute pair of socks I got while in South Korea. Going over to my desk, I grab a cereal bar before finally mustering the courage to turn around.

Peter is all ready to go with, a cute smirk playing at his lips. I try to give him an annoyed look, but he’s just too adorable, especially in the morning with bed hair and slight scruff littering his chin.

“You could have slept in, Covey.”

I go over to him, grab his hand and place a kiss to the palm. “Our time is already so limited. I don’t want to waste any of it.”

His eyes go soft. “You kill me, girl.” I smile cutely at him – or what I hope is cute and not demented-looking. I can only imagine how terrible my hair looks. Even with it in a high ponytail this morning.

“Les’go then.”

I hold onto his hand tightly, grab my phone and keys, stuff my cereal bar into my pocket and follow him out my room.

He goes to turn left, but I stop in my tracks. He looks back at me with confusion.

“Where are you planning on running?”

My smart-ass man chuckles while answering, “At the track, of course. Really, Lara Jean.”

“It was a valid question,” I mumble as I allow him to pull me along.

As we head down the stairs we pass one of my ‘friends’ who lives on my dorm floor. She’s more of an acquaintance than anything else. She goes to wave at me, but looks at my hand connected to Peter’s, and then looks at Peter. I can see her eyes start to bug out.

I feel giggly and smug all at once.

Yup, that’s my man, my boyfriend, my Peter K.

“Hey, Lara Jean,” she says timidly, even blushing faintly. And I know it’s not from her run this morning. Like Peter, she’s crazy and enjoys working out in the morning. I think she’s a student athlete as well. “Hi, Peter, right?” She gives me the universal eyebrow raise after asking a question and waiting for an answer in return.

I squeeze his hand and confirm for her.

After I introduce them and we are on our way again, I look behind me and smile as Courtney gives me two thumbs up.

Bouncing happily as we walk, Peter gives me a peculiar look. “You have a lot of energy this morning, considering we only got 4 hours of sleep.”

I bring his hand to my lips again and give it a kiss. “And what’s not to be happy about? It’s a beautiful morning, the air is cool, the leaves on the trees are starting to change, I have a great roommate, and I’m in good health.”

“And …” he continues.

“What and?” I ask, pretending not to know he’s fishing.

He gives a tickle to my side, before pulling me closer to him. I try not to trip over his feet as we walk on.

“Okay,” I give happily. “And most of all, my handsome, talented, amazing boyfriend is here. Does that suit you, sir?” I tease.

“Sir, huh? I could get use to that.” I give him a poke before wrapping my arms around his torso.

“You’re terrible.”

“But you love me anyway.”

I bite my lip before giving him a winning smile. I do love him, so incredibly.

“That I do.” He places a kiss to my forehead before continuing on.

“So do you even know where the track is?” I ask, thinking it’s a valid question.

Peter’s rumbling laugh is so cute.

“Only you, Lara Jean.” I smile. “Only you, sweetness.”

And on we continue, so my crazy man can go running on an early, beautiful Saturday morning.

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AN: I just adore these two. More to come with them, and I hope you enjoy where this story will go next. Most of the next chapter is written. So it shouldn’t be too long of a wait. Thanks to all who review and let me know their thoughts. It really helps my writing process. Thanks to all who stop by and read my little slice of Lara Jean and Peter. Until next time …


	5. v:v

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  **From UNC, Love Lara Jean**

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 “We love with a love that was more than love.”

–Edgar Allan Poe

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 .

“No, hon, not again.”

As I go to touch my hair _again_ , Lexie gently smacks my hand away. I bite at the smile threatening to overtake my lips. She playfully growls. Not that I would ever tell Kitty this, (because I value my life) but Lexie is as good as she is at doing my hair. I can’t help but marvel at her work of art.

Though I see me staring at myself in the mirror, I feel somewhat older, different.

Light, minimal make-up is artfully applied to my eyes and cheekbones. Lexie said it is only meant to highlight my features. And she’s done an amazing job. It looks as if I’m almost glowing more than anything, and nothing feels caked-on. One side of my hair is pulled up and pinned back while the other is left to hang in glossy curls.

“There. Finished.” She puts my comb down triumphantly, a half-smile tilting her full lips.

Tears start to burn my eyes. Again, I can’t believe how grown-up Lexie has made me look, while looking still like the old Lara Jean Peter knows so well.

Bending over, Lexie kisses my cheek, gives my curls one last bounce before whispering in my ear, “Don’t you dare cry, LJ. You’ll ruin my handy work.”

“I know, sorry.” I sniffle and blink a few times, trying to clear my nose and eyes. “It’s just you made me look so different.”

Lexie looks worried for a moment. “Good different?”

I turn from my reflection, pull her hand into mine and squeeze reassuringly. “Wonderfully different. It’s like I’m the same Lara Jean, but not. Does that make sense?”

She gives my hand one last squeeze before letting go. “Sure does.”

Gathering my courage around me like a blanket, I stand up and straighten out my dress, making sure no wrinkles have ruined my look. I give myself a last once-over. I can’t help but love my dress. It’s a light periwinkle with white polka dots. The sleeves are capped with ruffles tickling my shoulders. It’s fun, flirty and whimsical. All things Lara Jean, or so Lexie and Smita claimed when we went shopping. 

“Give me a twirl, LJ,” Lexie teases from behind me.

As I spin, I can’t help the happy laughter bubbling in my chest. I’m so full this weekend. I have my Peter with me, I’m in college, have an amazing roommate who is like a sister to me, friends I can call my own, my health, and a fantastic evening to look forward to.

Lexie has her camera phone out and snapping pictures of me. I try to playfully grab it from her –surprised she was taking pictures – but she’s too quick. She does a fancy twirl that makes her look like an enchanted fairy.

She tucks her phone in the pocket of her hoodie, and reaches for the door handle. “Okay, no more messing about. I don’t want you ruining your hair, and me having to fix it again. Peter will have to wait even longer and he’ll be mad at me for keeping you away from him.”

I laugh at her exaggeration, but not by much. Peter had pouted (oh so cutely) when Lexie kicked him out of our dorm room, wanting him to get the full affect. It feels like Prom again, except Peter has this night planned, and I don’t know what to expect.

It didn’t matter how I tried to grill him about tonight, he wouldn’t budge. “ _It’s a surprise, Covey. I want to surprise my girl_.” I gave him a mock scowl, but it was quickly swiped from my face as it was replaced with his lush lips.

Before Lex can pull the door open, I pull her into a hug. “Thank you for everything today, and for everything else since we’ve met.”

She lets go of the door so she can hug me tightly.

“Of course, Lara Jean. You’re my best roomie, and I love you. There isn’t anything you can’t tell me or I wouldn’t try and help you with, yeah?”

I look up into her stunning face. She’s a few inches taller than me, but with my three inch heels on, I’m about eye level with her. “Yeah,” I answer sincerely. “Same goes. Always.”

I pull from her, straighten my dress once more, and let out a huge breath. 

We walk silently to the common room and I can hear Peter before seeing him. His beautiful laugh is mingled with other laughter. As I turn the corner, my heart beats from the sight of him. He’s wearing a berry blue button-down shirt, tan khakis, and a cream colored sweater. His brown hair falls into his eyes as his head is thrown back in mirth. The long line of his neck look so sexy, especially with the collar of his shirt unbuttoned.

Something happily squirmed in my stomach, sending shivers to all corners of my skin. He is beyond gorgeous.

“You are one lucky girl, LJ. Seriously.” My roommate shakes her head as if in a trance and pushes my immobile body further into the common room.

As if he’s a full-time student here, Peter is surrounded by people; they all seem to be hanging on his every word, all seem to be trapped in his aura. But that’s always been Peter: he has this special(ness) about him, this magical net that pulls and keeps people near and around him. I myself have been so enthralled with him, and now is no different.

He’s so beautiful.

Forgetting everyone else around us, and needing to be near him, I skirt around those surrounding him and rightfully place myself in his lap. I’m usually not one for PDA, but tonight I can’t help myself. I watch those watching him and _want_ them to know Peter K is mine, and I’m his in return.

Ready to be away from these people – many of whom are looking at me in awe, shock and surprise – I place a kiss to Peter’s cheek and whisper into his skin, “Are you ready, baby?”

All of his attention is on me, all else fades into the background. I know we must be putting on a show for all to see, but we can care less. I’ll deal with everything once Peter leaves back for UVA.

“Fuck, Lara Jean, but you look so gorgeous.” He places a kiss to my neck, causing my skin to flare pink from shyness and happiness.

I never, never think of myself as gorgeous (that’s Lexie), but my man makes me feel exactly that.

“Let’s get out of here, sweetness. Before I have to kick the ass of every guy here drooling over you. Just when I thought I found some new guy friends.”

I giggle stupidly at my man’s words. He absolutely crazy. Most of the girls around him had been drooling, not to mention a boy or two. Not that I blame _any_ of them. Sometimes I can’t get over how Peter K is the most handsome boys of all the boys. Not only his outer-self, but his inner-self is pretty wonderful as well.

Giddily, I get up and try to ignore all the stares we’ve generated. I pull my man with me. Again, I’m not for public displays, but Peter can get me to do things most can’t; he takes me out of my comfort zone and challenges me to be something different for a while. It doesn’t even matter that he’s unawares of doing this; it’s one of the many reasons I love him.

Bravely, I search the crowd for Lexie and give her a goodbye wave, silently thanking her for all her efforts tonight. She gives me a thumbs-up and a sweet smile.

Peter wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads me out the door. The cool September breeze is a welcome relief to my pinkened cheeks. As I breathe in the air I cuddle closer to my man, wanting to be as close to him as possible. I feel him place a kiss to my forehead, lingering as he rubs his shaven-cheeks along my skin.

“You look really beautiful tonight, Covey. Did I tell you that, yet?”

I look up into his ever youthful face, wanting so much to move the fallen hair from his eyes, but I let it lay. It adds to his boyish appeal. “Perhaps.” I hug him closer to me.

He drops a sweet, lingering kiss to my lips (it’s seemed too long since that’s happened), licking my parted lips with his skilled tongue. Gosh, the things he can do.

I pull away, trying not to be too subconscious of the people walking about campus or looking in our direction.

“Come on, Covey,” Peter softly beckons me, laughing sweetly. “Your blush is bright enough to light up the entire campus.”

“Haha,” I fake laugh, yet still keeping Peter K close to me. I need somewhere to hide my face.

We walk silently the rest of the way to his car, simply basking in the pleasure of being close to each other. Now that we are long distance, proximity to him isn’t something I take for granted.

He gallantly opens the car door for me. Before I can step in, Peter surprisingly spins me around, pulls me into his embrace and kisses my dizzy head. I can’t help but laugh at his adorable antics while he places sweet kisses to my face.

“I love you, Lara Jean Covey.” I go to answer his adoration, but he stops me by placing a quick kiss to my lips. “I want you to know that, sweetness.”

He’s turns serious and my heart all but leaps from my chest, wanting to be closer to his.

I nod my head, trying to stop the tears wanting to break from my eyes. “Being away from you is so very hard, but being here with you tonight … this weekend, reminds me how very worth it you are. It isn’t easy being away from you, Covey, seeing other guys being able to walk with their girlfriends on campus and enjoy a simple meal together after a hard day. It’s not easy,” he reiterates, resting his forehead on the top of my head, his thumb caressing my cheek. He slides his mouth to my exposed ear before whispering, “But you are so, so worth it, Covey. Never forget that. Okay?”

He pulls back and arches his back to get a better view of my face. I look up, wanting him to see the effects of his declarations on me.

“Okay,” I mumble, so overcome from his charming words.

“Great.” His boyish smile returns to his face, as he gently guides me into the car and shuts the door.

I exhale loudly, trying to re-capture my heart as he makes his way around to the driver’s side.

Once he gets in, starts the car and backs out, I grab his free hand, bringing it to my lips. I place several kisses to his calloused fingers. He rubs his thumb along my chin.

“I love you, too, Peter K. I hope you know that as well.”

He winks, before resting our combined fingers on the gear shift.

“I do, sweetness.”

.

.

As Peter helps me out of the car, I can’t help but smile at the beautiful building before me. It looks like it should be situated along the hills of Italy. It’s a three-story building with Juliet balconies facing the front and arches over the grand door ways.

“This is where we’re eating tonight,” Peter informs me as I read the name of the building. “Il Palio is supposed to be a really good restaurant. Most of the reviews were good, and I wanted to take my girlfriend somewhere fancy tonight.”

“Peter,” I gush, reaching up on my tip toes to kiss his smooth cheek. “This really wasn’t necessary. You know I would be fine with something less expensive.”

He gives me a cross look that is too adorable on his handsome face. “I know it wasn’t necessary, but I wanted something special for tonight.”

I give him a questioning look, but he’s facing the gurgling water fountain to the left of the entrance. There are lights on around it, making it look fetching in the twilight.

“Let’s go look really quickly.” I let him guide me towards the fountain, happy from his enthusiasm.

He takes out his phone as he stops in front of the three-tiered fountain. He places himself behind me, puts his head on my shoulder and tells me to smile. I can’t see his face as I pose for his pictures, but I can imagine how handsome he looks. As he goes to take another picture of us, I turn my head to the side and kiss the corner of his mouth. Camera seemingly forgotten, Peter looks deep into my eyes, sending me silent messages that has my heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

“Love you,” I mumble before sealing our mouths together. It never matters how many times I kiss this boy; each one is special in its own right.

After placing one last kiss to my nose, Peter puts his phone away, pulls a penny from his pocket, turns me around towards the fountain, wraps his protective arms around me and whispers into my neck, “Make a wish, sweetness, and I better be the star of that wish.”

I giggle at his request, but take the coin nonetheless.

Childishly, I close my eyes and wish that we have many magical days together, before flicking the coin into the bubbling water.

As I go to turn around and hug him close to me, my stomach growls loudly.

We both laugh at the interruption. “Time to feed my beautiful girl,” Peter K proclaims. He twirls me again, watching as my skirt flares out in the spin. I try not to blush at the intense way he’s watching me, but I fail miserably. My cheeks and neck are still red from his calling me beautiful.

With our hands attached, we make our way into the restaurant. Peter gives his name to the hostess and we are quickly seated.

The restaurant is quite beautiful. The floors look to be done in marble, and clack happily under my heels. There are fresh flowers at every table and exquisite cloth covered chairs waiting for us to sit in. My man pulls out my chair and waits for me to be seated.

After situating himself, the hostess hands us our menus and gives an extra lingering smile and long-look to Peter. I can’t blame the woman (probably a student at UNC), but I am sitting RIGHT here.

I clear my throat to break her trance. She gives an embarrassed giggle before rushing off.

Peter gives me a self-satisfied wink. I don’t think it will ever matter how much he ages; people will always be drawn to him. It’s his charisma.

I decide to ignore his ego and carry on the evening.

We both look at our menus and joke over some of the choices. Peter dares me to order the octopus, but I’m not really feeling it tonight. I dare him to order the chicken liver mousse, but he makes a disgusted face; even my offer to hand-feed it to him doesn’t sweeten the deal. I caress the disgust lines from his cheeks and forehead, reminding him that he will get early wrinkles. He looks worried for a moment before taking in my laughing mouth.

He's too easy to wind up sometimes. And I love him even more for it.

After we place our orders (of perfectly edible yummy Italian food) we talk about his classes at UVA, his intense training schedule, and how he’s getting along with the guys on his team.

Peter is no longer worried about fitting in with the guys like he was on our Beach week. He had gone into a spiral just thinking about how fit they were and how long it was going to take him to catch up to their fitness level.

After Daddy and Trina’s wedding, we had talked ourselves hoarse. Peter admitted to feeling depressed about all the changes happening in his life. Everything felt as if it had been spiraling for him and there was no way for him to control it. Instead of talking to me or someone else about it, he became sullen and drank too much. Those were the secrets of his heart he admitted to me.

I knew he was sad over his dad not making it to graduation, but I didn’t know the depths of his abandonment issues.

I apologized for forcing the father-issue on him, for making it seem like I had outgrown him, for making him seem like just a closing chapter in my life and for not understand where he was coming from.

He apologized for closing me out, for drinking too much, for ruining our Beach week (something I think we were both at fault for), and being a general asshole – again his words.

We promised to be more open and honest with each other.

And tonight, is no different.

As we wait for our meals Peter admits sometimes he still feels like a scrawny child next to some of his teammates, but he also talks about how things are getting better, how the guys on the teams are awesome and take time to work out with him.

Looking at him tonight, and the way his shirt and sweater tightly hug his frame, I would say his workouts are working above and beyond. He looks better than anything on the menu. I blush thinking such thoughts.

We pause in our conversation as our waiter brings our dishes. Peter places a quick kiss to the palm of my hand before gently placing it down and picking up his fork.

His eyes light up as he takes his first bite of food.

“Damn, this is good, Covey. Here, try this.”

Before I can even take a bite of my own food, he puts his fork to my mouth and waits for me to sample his dish.

Playfully, I lick my lips (all the while, willing a blush not to stain my face), close my eyes, and slowly pull the pasta from his fork. I make “mmm” noises deep in the back of my throat.

When I open my eyes, Peter looks as if he’s in a trance. His mouth is hanging open and I can see his chewed up pasta. Instead of being grossed out, I let out peals of laughter. That was too funny.

My man closes his mouth before giving me a mock glare. “That was mean, Lara Jean,” he growls. He shifts uncomfortable in his chair; I can only imagine what he’s trying to re-adjust.

“You loved it. Admit it, baby.” Peter gives me this look as if he’s never seen me before. It’s adorable and a little uncomfortable the way he’s staring at me.

“Too much,” he grimaces, wiggling in his chair a little more.

After an awkward silence, a trouble-free smile breaks over my man’s face. That’s the Peter I love. He can’t stay unhappy or uncomfortable for long. 

We go back to eating, sharing stories of time apart, feeding each other little bites from our respective plates and simply basking in being so close to each other.

I can’t help myself as I set my fork down often to reach out and touch him in some way: a kiss to his hand I’m holding, a swipe of my linen napkin over his face, moving his hair from out of his eyes. I just need to touch him.

Peter is all that really exists for me. Even our waiter who checks on us regularly holds little of my attention. I feel bad for being rude, but my man is here for such a short time. I need to take in everything about him; so when he’s gone, I can remember the cute tilt of his lip when he pouts. The sweet way he unthinkingly pushes the hair from his forehead. The way his face scrunches up when I tease him. The way he can gaze into me and see every detail of my soul.

Once our meals are finished and we both pass on dessert – Peter for fitness reasons, and me because I’m just too full – the waiter brings our check to the table. I go to grab my purse and contribute to my part of the meal; this wasn’t a cheap place to eat.

“What are you doing, Covey?” Peter asks me like I’m an alien from another planet.

“Going to powder my nose,” I jest, giving him a “duh” look. “I’m going to pay for some of the meal. This place is expensive, baby.” Peter preens under his favorite pet-name, and I can’t help but laugh at him. He’s just too funny.

“NO you aren’t. I knew the prices when I picked this place. I did my research, Covey. And my girl isn’t paying for dinner tonight. I wanted this to be a special evening for you.”

I’m touched at the lengths he’s gone in to planning this evening and everything else this weekend.

I concede by putting my purse back down, leaning over and kissing my favorite corner of his mouth. “Thank you, then.” I rub my hand along his strong jaw, “And this weekend has been so very wonderful, baby.”

He kisses my cheek before pulling out his credit card, and putting it into the sleeve with the bill.

After the waiter takes his card, we simply stare at each other. I wonder if other couples do this as well, or if people think we’re strange when they look at us. It makes my heart hurt with how much I love him. 

Once the waiter comes back, he wishes us a pleasant evening. Peter pays the bill, cutely pats his flat stomach, and stands up and stops me from doing the same. Once again, he pulls out my chair and helps me to stand up. Making sure I have on my cardigan and my purse, we leave the nice restaurant. I follow Peter as he makes his way opposite the exit and through another set of doors.

There is a beautiful courtyard set up in the middle of the building. It looks like a welcoming piazza. Iron chair and tables line the covered walk ways. There are comfortable looking red cushions that cover the iron of the chairs.

Peter K leads us to a set of chairs that’s positioned in front of a roaring fire. There’s another couple enjoying the beauty of the night and warmth of the fireplace, but they ignore us as Peter takes a seat on the cushy chair and pulls me into his lap.

I shiver a little at our intimate position and the closeness of my man around me.

Peter takes it as my being chilly from the autumn air, and I don’t correct him. Thoughtfully he wraps his arms and opened sweater around me, trying to get me warm. If he only knew how warm I truly am.

I can’t help as I throw caution to the wind, snuggle close into him and bury my face in his neck. He smells like the cool-smelling cologne I got him from Korea, like the spiciness from our dinner, and like something uniquely him.

I let my body totally slump against him, sure in the knowledge he will keep me safe.

Every now and then, I feel him drop kisses to my forehead, push my curls behind my ear, and rub along the exposed skin of my knees and lower legs.

Moaning contently, I cuddle further into him and he tightens his grip around me. If I were a cat surely I’d be purring now.

“Can I tell you something, Lara Jean?” Peter sweetly whispers in my ear.

“Anything,” I answer contentedly.

He unwraps one of his arms from around me, picks up my hand and kisses each of my individual fingers. I in turn kiss the exposed skin on his neck. He places my hand around his cheek, and I start to rub lovingly at his smooth skin.

“There was once this girl who jumped this unsuspecting boy in the halls at school.”

I laugh happily as he tells the very start of our relationship. I had been out of control that day. But I guess sometimes, the craziest of our ideas can lead to the sweetest of outcomes.

“She kissed him like he was a water oasis in the desert.”

I poke him gently in the stomach.

“That’s an over-exacerbated analogy.”

“And those are ten-dollar words, but still true nonetheless.”

I bury my face deeper in his neck and bite my lips to stop myself from blushing something awful. I can only imagine how hot my skin must feel to Peter.

 “Anyhow, unsuspecting boy didn’t know how to take the actions of attacking girl.”

I giggle at his continuing story.

“But unsuspecting boy had so much in store for him. You see, attacking girl and he became an item.”

“Can we not refer to me as _attacking girl_?” I mumble into his skin.

He playfully shushes me before continuing.

“Though they were fake to begin, unsuspecting boy fell very hard for his attacking girl. She brought out a side to him that had been hidden for so long. It didn’t matter that unsuspecting boy was handsome, amazing, popular, a real stud on campus, tall, prom king, roguishly good-looking …”

“Okay, we get it, you’re hot,” I say through my laughter.

“Oh yeah, and hot, thanks, sweetness.”

I try to stop my stomach from hurting because of all my laughter.

“Anyhow, it didn’t matter that he was all of those things, because attacking girl didn’t like him for any of those reasons. She liked him because he was different around her. She brought out of him the part that had been buried.”

“You noticed that, baby?” I ask surprised. I pull my face from his neck, needing to _see_ his answer to my question.

“He didn’t have to be big-man-on-campus. He didn’t have to be funny, or popular, or the best athlete, or the leader of the group, or always playing the role he carved out for himself.”

“What did he have to be?” I ask softly, rubbing my fingers along his jaw and throat.

“Myself. And of course respectful of your family. That Kitty can be something scary.”

A half-smile breaks out over my face. He has me completely beguiled.

“She was always in your corner.”

“And what about you, sweetness, are you in my corner?”

“More than I can ever convey aloud, Peter Kavinsky.”

I tenderly kiss him on the lips, shyly slipping my tongue in his opened mouth.

“My handsome unsuspecting man.” I place one last kiss to his puffy lips before pulling back. He looks to be in a daze and so beautifully messy.

“Can I tell you something else, Lara Jean, and it doesn’t have to mean anything more than my wanting to be alone with you; not wanting to share you with anyone tonight?”

I nod, a little nervous.

He takes in a nervous breath himself before looking me square in the eyes. “I got us a room at the hotel here tonight.”

He looks at me in alarm, waiting to see my reaction.

“It truly doesn’t mean anything, Lara Jean. And it isn’t meant to push you into anything. I just wanted you to myself tonight. Alexandra is great and all, and it was so nice of her to clear out of your room last night, but I don’t want to displace her again, and I don’t want to share you, Covey. We get so little time together as is, and if anything, did happen, well, you know, that would be…”

I stop his rant by placing my fingers over his lips. I am a little nervous about being in a hotel room alone with him (it’s so adult), but that’s what we are.

I want to be selfish as well and have him all to myself.

“We can stay, Peter K.”

“Yeah?” he asks, still nervous about my reaction. I guess I’m not giving him what he’s expecting, and that makes me feel wonderful. It’s something I like doing to him: being and doing something he doesn’t anticipate. “Because we don’t have to. We can go back to your dorm room and …”

“And nothing, Peter. I want to stay … here, with you. Okay?”

It’s his turn to place his face in the hollow of my neck. It tickles as he breathes on my skin. He places butterfly kisses on me to calm himself, and as I feel his heartrate starting to settle, I pull his face from its hiding place.

“You ready?” He looks deeply into my eyes, trying to read my meaning. I’m not totally sure what I’m asking, but I wait for his answer.

“Are you ready?” I bite my lip, searching. “Lara Jean?” he asks

I lick my lips and taste him there.

_Yes_ , I think, “Yes, Peter.”

.

.

The hotel room is very nice, and quite elegant. It’s clear that Peter went out of his way to make this surprise special for me.

The walls are a dark cream color, almost khaki. There is a big king size bed centered in the middle of the room with a big plush fabric-paneled headboard. The side tables and desk in the room very contemporary and modern. There is a beautiful monochromatic color scheme dominating the room, and it plays nicely off the cream accents of the room. There are French door dominating the far side of the room which open to a Juliet balcony. And the settee placed next to the French doors looks sleek, welcoming and comfortable.

All in all, the room is quite beautiful, romantic and classy. It something I would imagine in a sleek high-rise in New York city, yet a little whimsical with the mismatched end tables.

I feel Peter’s arms wrap around my waist from behind, and I happily lean into him.

“You like, Covey?”

I don’t even hesitate, “I like it a lot, Peter. This is so beautiful, and probably expensive,” I mumble the last part.

“You are worth this and so much more. If possible, I would have taken you to the real Italy.”

I turn in his arms and place a kiss to his kind, kind heart. “I only need you here with me, Peter Kavinsky.”

He kisses my forehead in turn. “And maybe Italy one day, yeah?”

He blows a wet kiss in my neck and I scream in his chest, where he has my face buried. “Not if you keep that up, mister.”

Thankfully he pulls back and swipes his fingers under my fluttering eyelids.

“Or maybe some wild, overgrown field in France where you can wear this dress again, and twirl to your heart’s content. My day-dream believer.”

I bite my lip to stop myself from sighing at his cuteness. Sometimes I want to pinch myself to make sure this is real; that I have this amazing boyfriend I love terribly and loves me back in turn.

“Someday, yeah.”

We simply stand there, staring at each other, basking in the closeness we both feel. We may only be a few hours apart, but no matter the distance, it is super difficult not being able to see him every day, not being able to simply hold his hand or kiss his cheek or cuddle into his opened arms. It is an ache that’s only soothed by his being near me.

I know my mom said to never go to college with a boyfriend, but she never knew Peter, and to me he’s worth the sacrifice (whatever that may be).

“So what would you like to do, Covey? I brought a couple of movies for us to watch. You can’t watch Fight Club too many times, you know.” Peter places a quick kiss to my forehead before turning around and starts going through his overnight bag he had hidden in the trunk of his car. “I also brought a game, or we could go swimming in the pool?”

I push all those options to the side. Perhaps some other time.

Quietly, I sneak up behind him and wrap my arms around his very fit waist. He jumps a little from my sneak attack, and I can’t help but giggle a little.

Once my laughter subsides, I place several kisses in between his shoulder blades before resting my cheek there.

“Do you really want us to play a game or watch a movie, baby?” I’m really nervous asking this question, but I’m not sure how else to broach the subject. I’m so inexperienced in many ways.

He turns in my arms, sits on the chair and wraps his arms around my stomach. My arms fall to his shoulders as he rests his chin on my stomach. He gives me a most serious look.

“Truthfully, Lara Jean?”

I nod

“I want what you want, baby,” he whispers sweetly. “You’ve always called the shot in the physical department, and I want you to continue to. I want my girl to be comfortable and secure in all physical aspects of our relationship.”

I bite my lips again, and nod.

“We’ve waited 2 years so far, and if you need to wait longer, we will.”

“Just like that?” I ask.

“Just like that.”

I can’t help but lean forward and hug him tightly. That’s why I love him so very much.

“Do you want to, though?”

“I will always want to have sex with you, Lara Jean.” He pulls me from my hiding place in his neck and stare at me straight on. My tummy summersaults from his declarations. “You are beautiful, sweetness, and I love your body. But I also love your mind, your silliness, and caring heart. You’re the whole package, babe.”

My mind’s made up.

I give him a quick kiss to the cheek, before turning around and grabbing my bag that Lexie packed for me. Peter sure did surprise me this weekend, and enlisted my roommate to help him.

“Lara Jean, what’s wrong?” Peter asks in alarm.

I turn around on my way to the bathroom and give him a half-smile. “Nothing, Peter K. I’m just going to change for bed, yeah?” I tell him softly.

“Oh, yeah, sure – that’s fine. I just thought you … that you … that I somehow …”

I can’t help the smile that grows even larger on my face. He’s too adorable.

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

He wipes the worried look from his face and gives me his untroubled grin, the one I just adore.

“K, Covey. Take your time. I’m just going to pick a movie for us to watch.” He turns around and starts rummaging through his bag.

.

.

My stomach is clinching in both fear and anticipation. It’s not that I regret my decision, but it’s a big choice. I know Chrissy always told me it’s no big deal, but to me – it is. Always has been. It’s a life-changing decision _to me_ , and something I’ve never taken lightly. Or perhaps it’s just my character make-up: to make a huge decision my head and my HEART have to be in agreement. That’s how Lara Jean Song Covey operates.

My Dad’s mom and Go-go always think me whimsical (or flighty in my grandma’s case) but that is how I’m wired. I can’t make such a decision lightly. And I’m okay with that. It works for me and that’s what matters.

I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. Even after making a monumental decision, I feel as if I look the same; no discernable changes. I wonder if this is how Go-go felt, how my mom felt, how Trina felt, how Stormy felt.

I’m still the same, but also different; I’m no longer a little girl. I’m a young woman on the verge of full adulthood. I feel safe both in my heart and my head, and know what I choose to do with my body is right, and whom I choose to share it with.

“Are you ready, sweetness? The movie’s ready to go,” I hear my man call from inside the room.

I take one more look at myself. I don’t have anything sexy to wear ( _thanks very much, Lexie_ , I think with humor), but I like it better this way. Last time I propositioned Peter it was awkward, and I want this time to feel different. I want to feel like me. 

I’m wearing my cute, silky pajamas with the little shorts and button up shirt. My hair is down and has a bit of curl left in from Lexie’s earlier hairdo. My makeup is washed off and I’m fresh-faced. My cheeks are extra pink from my thoughts and anticipation of what’s about to happen.

In all, I look like a young woman in love and about to give herself to the man she loves.

“More ready than ever,” I whisper to myself.

.

.

“There you are, cutie. Get over here; your man wants to cuddle.” I try to suppress my smile, but it’s nil impossible. Sometimes Peter just makes me so happy with only his words; he makes me feel so light and free.

Quickly I turn off the main light and run joyfully to him. He lightly bounces as I jump on the bed and roll towards him.

He laughs at my antics, giving me a contented look that screams ‘ _oh, that silly Lara Jean_ ’.

Before he can reach for the remote control, I take his hand in my and start to kiss his fingers. He gives me a confused sort of look, probably wondering what that silly Lara Jean is doing. I give his fingers an extra kiss for being so adorable.

He moulds his right hand around my cheek as he pulls my face to his. I give him my sincerest smile.

“Your cheeks are always so soft.”

Before losing my nerve, I get up on my knees and place kisses along his forehead, nose and corners of his mouth. His face gets more intense the longer my lips spend on him. I’m still nervous, but I’m done waiting.

After all my man has done for me this weekend, and through all our time together, I know it’s time. The worries and barriers that’ve existed are gone; I feel nothing holding me back.

As gracefully as possible, I go and straddle his lap. Automatically his hands come to rest on my hips, his fingers grasping them quite tenderly.

Enchanting shivers of anticipation run along my flesh, causing goosebumps to erupt all over; it builds the excitement.

“Sweetness?” Peter asks confused, his brow creasing. My heart hurts something deep each time he calls me that, how he sees me as that.

“I love you.” He gives me that intense look again, as if he’s searching for the absolution of my soul. “So much, Peter K.

His hands caress my hips; his eyes refuse to leave mine.

“Lara Jean, you kill me, girl. You utterly slay me.”

I give him a wobbly smile. “Only in the best of ways, right?”

“In every possible, _meaningful_ way that matters, baby.”

Wow, how’s a girl to respond?

So I don’t say anything. I lean forward and let my lips talk without uttering a word.

I let my chest rest against him, and it feels as if both of our hearts will beat right out. My hands find their way to his hair which is unimaginably soft. My fingers find their home there as we continue to kiss. It’s beyond intoxicating.

Skillfully Peter starts to take over our kiss, and I happily let him. I can feel his heavy, hot breaths against my opened mouth as our tongues caress each other’s. My entire body is tingling as his hands find their way under my loose night shirt. They go no further than my hips and lower back, but his loving strokes send me into such euphoria.

As our breathing becomes difficult, Peter pulls back and rests his forehead against my collarbone. I kiss the side of his head, still running my fingers through his hair. Every now and then a shiver runs up the back of his spine.

“What about the movie, Covey?” my handsome man asks through labored breaths. I can literally feel how worked up he is; it’s pressed so intimately between my legs.

I pull his head from my collarbone and kiss his puffy lips.

“I’m ready, Peter.”

He stares, his lips puffy and cheeks stained pink.

“Bu–but, I thought we discussed this, sweetness. I don’t expect anything from you.” The truth of those words scream from his honest eyes.

“We did, and I know that. But look at me, Peter.” And he does, keenly. “Really look at me, my love.” His eyes literally glisten at my term of endearment. “I’m ready.”

He nods, as if trying to comprehend my words. I place his hand over my heart, on my breast. I know he can feel my heart trying to make its way into his grasp. But he’s already had it there all this time. “I’m ready.”

Reality start to settle into him. He knows I’m serious and this is a decision I haven’t taken lightly. I’m done being scared; I’m done being cautious; I’m done not sharing my body with him. It’s a gift I give freely and with much love _to him_.

Like fog dissipating from a beautiful morning sunrise, Peter’s eyes become clear and filled with nothing but his love. We are finally there … together … on the same page.

Unlike at the Beach house, there is no welcome awkwardness here. I feel only his love, devotion and desire for me. If possible his eyes would burn me alive with how much they seem to spark.

His hand squeezes me so wonderfully a few times – as if becoming acquainted – before they move to the buttons of my pajama top. Without taking his eyes from mine, he slowly undoes the top button, his eyes silently asking me the entire time if this is fine.

I rest my hand on his and allow it to follow his movement, giving him permission with each button. When the last button is unfastened, we both exhale loudly. He’s so hard against me, and instead of being scared by what’s about to come, I welcome it, softly rocking over him. Little pleasing groans leave his lips every now and then, encouraging me to continue my ministrations.

There isn’t much space between us, but it’s enough to finally peel my shirt open. Peter hesitates for a short while, so I go over the final hurdle for him. Taking my hands, I place them on my top and open it.

“Fuck, Lara Jean,” slips naughtily from his kiss-swollen lips. I take his hands and put them on my bare chest.

While changing for bed I put nothing on underneath. I wanted it to be different than last time. It doesn’t matter what bra and underwear set I’m wearing, or if they’re sexy. What matters is Lara Jean being herself and comfortable enough in her skin to have sex with her boyfriend for the first time.

Delicately his hands mould around my bare breast, caressing and stroking me. I close my eyes and can’t help but bite my lips, trying to suppress my moans.

Something wet licks me there and my eyes shoot open. Peter’s head is buried in my chest, sampling what I opened up to him. My hands fall back to his hair, carding through the soft tresses, instinctively encouraging him to continue.

I’ve never felt anything so divine as this, so intimate as this. Peter’s lips on my chest, kissing me and sucking me is a superlative emotion.

As I go to push his mouth closer to me (oh, how I need him closer), he surprises me by reversing our positions. My head spins as his strong arms, turn me over and gently lays me on my back. I stare at him wide-eyed, impressed at his strength and so wanting more.

He bends down and places little kisses over my face before stopping to feast on my lips. As his tongue pushes into my mouth I can’t help but arch my back, wanting to get closer. As I do this, his hands come to my shoulders and start to peel my shirt from my torso.

Though I’m shaking a little, I allow him to continue. As he goes to pull away from my face, I throw my hand to the back of his head, “Stay, baby,” I whimper into his panting mouth.

He listens to me as our mouths fuse back together.

His hands are a little unsteady as he works my shirt from my torso. Goosebumps erupt as I finally, finally feel his hands on my entirely bare torso.

I release his lips and allow him to pull back.

His eyes are so dark, so intense. His hair is a mess and his lips are quite red. Never has he looked as handsome, as beautiful, as resplendent to me as he does now. If I could paint him now, it’d be an instant masterpiece.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, Lara Jean.” I blush deeply from his words. And though I know he desire me, it is almost instinct as I go to cover my chest. It isn’t that I don’t want him to see me. I’m just shy and never want him to be disappointed in what I may not have, what I may not be able to do.

He gently stops my hand, “You should never hide _your_ perfection.”

“Peter, I’m far from that,” I mumble, almost embarrassed from his rose-colored view of my body. I’m too short, not that big in the chest area and a little too curvy in the hips.

“No you aren’t, Covey.” He kisses my breast, stomach and rims his tongue around my belly button. My eyes all but fall from their sockets. “You are perfect to me. As clichéd as that may sound.” He makes his way back to my breast and starts sucking in earnest as his fingers caress my sides, back, and covered bottom.

“I would never pay you cheap lip service.”

His lips find their way to my neck and then my ear lobe. “I love you very much, sweetness.” He gently bites down before sucking on it. I quiver deep to my very bones. I am so overcome. “From our first kiss to this now, Lara Jean. I love you more than I could ever say,” he pants so very brilliantly in my ear.

He brings my left hand to his heavily-beating heart. “It’s for you, as long as you want.”

And with that declaration, my tears finally spill over. He’s gone and done it, and I can’t help but give a watery cry-come-laugh. “You as well, my love.”

With nothing left to say and with my words now replete, I pull at his night shirt and bring it over his head.

My lips instantly go to his. Hungrily they start to search his for anything he’s willing to give. I can feel his surprise at my hunger, my eagerness; it only encourages him to keeping go, to go further.

His hard chest falls on mine, bringing him so wonderfully close to me. Without thinking I arch my back, pushing my naked chest against his. The feel of his bare skin against mine is so exquisite. My hands seem to be everywhere from his mussed hair, to the silken hot skin on his lower back, to the waist band of his sleep pants.

“Peter, please,” I hear myself ask, needing something but not knowing how to get there. I feel extremely hot and sticky. All I want to do is rub against him, to find some relief from the burning in my lower stomach.

“What, sweetness … what do you want?” he pants heavily in my mouth, in my ear, on the hollow of my neck.

“I-I don’t know,” I mumble incoherently.

He pulls back and I start to whine from the loss of contact with his body on mine. Though we are both sweaty and hot, I don’t want him far from me. I want his heavy weight on me, pushing into me.

“Shhh, sweetness, I’m not going too far.”

I nod and stare at his beautiful outline being backlit from the blue screen of the TV. His muscles twist and pull pleasingly with each movement of his body. Slowly he starts to untie the strings from his sleep pants, all the while never taking his eyes from me. It’s so erotic watching him start to undress while watching me.

“Is this okay?” His hands have stopped at the band of his pants, waiting for my permission to pull them all the way down.

I bite my lip from anticipation and curiosity and hunger. “Yes,” I answer hoarsely, causing him to smile beatifically at me.

Inch by incredibly inch his pants come down. It looks as if every part of him has been sculpted. Working out has definitely benefited him. A pinch of disappointment pierces me as he still has his boxer briefs on and part of him is still hidden. But that will soon come off as well, I cajole myself.

After he throws his pants to the floor, he bends back over me, taking my lips with his. I happily give in, losing myself to his mouth, to his wicked tongue, to his wandering hands.

“Can I touch you, Lara Jean?” my man asks me as his tongue runs the length of my chest.

I want to laugh at the absurdity of the question, but he latches on to me and all I can really see are stars.

“You are, baby.”

His mumbling laughter tickles around by breast, causing wonderful shivers to course through me.

He stops kissing and licking me there and rests his chin over my beating heart. He exhales deeply, and trails his fingers down my chest to the band of my shorts. “Here.” His talented fingers swipe under the elastic of my shorts and around my hips.

I pull his face to mine, temporarily displacing his fingers from their pleasant journey, and kiss his beautiful panting mouth. “Yes,” I answer in the kiss.

His hand slowly pushes past the barrier and touch my bare skin. Again Peter seems surprised. “Fuck, baby,” he grunts.

I want to smirk at his surprise but his hot hands grasping my hip and pushing further over my bare bum is too erotic for such reactions. I press myself further into him, encouraging without words to explore. To touch me intimately, to touch me there.

He falls from off of me, and on to his side. I want to pull him back over me, to feel his delicious weight over me, to keep him cradled between my opened thighs. He lifts his head near mine, resting it next to me on the pillow. I turn to my left and kiss his waiting lips.

I love him so much; my heart is about to burst.

Without breaking the kiss, I trail my fingers from his cheek, down his arm and to his wandering fingers. I don’t know where this boldness in me is coming from, but I go with it. I’m still timid, but I push past it. My fingers find their way past my shorts and become entangled with his. Deliberately I pull his hand with mine and rest it just above my most intimate area.

My beautiful man’s eyes bore into mine, filling me with immeasurable amounts of love. “Here,” I plead.

I lovingly caress his hand one last time before, removing mine from his and allowing it to wander, to touch, to explore, to pierce.

My head falls back and my teeth bite into swollen lips as he finally, _finally_ touches me there. It’s everything I imagined and could never conceive. To have Peter’s fingers there, touching, sliding, rubbing circles in that spot has me to the moon and back.

“More,” I implore. My hips try and work in tandem with him, wanting to get the full effect of everything he’s doing to me.

My hands become fisted in my hair as I feel him peel me apart down there and insert his finger into me.

I’m not sure what to feel. At first I want him to take it out, but as he slides his finger further and further up into me, I shiver at the friction.

“Damn, Lara Jean, you’re so incredibly tight. You feel incredible on my finger.”

I blush something hot at his words, but they cause butterflies to erupt over and over in my chest before they take flight to every part of my body. 

On and on he goes, pushing me further and further until I fall from my incredible height.

The feeling of falling is indescribable. How does one put into words that exact feeling of ecstasy, that all-consuming euphoria that fills each and every part of one’s body? It’s like nothing I’ve felt before, and it’s even more meaningful and special because Peter and I are experiencing this together.

As his fingers leave me, and I shudder again, I feel his lips raining kisses on my face.

“You’re exquisite, Lara Jean.” I bring my shaky hand to his reddened cheek.

I don’t know what to do or what to really say after a situation like this, so I go with my heart, “Thank you, my love.” It seems to be okay as Peter turns his face towards my hand and places kisses to my palm.

He turns his face into my neck, lays half of his torso on me, before pulling me closer to his snuggling frame.

We spend the next few minutes cuddling, just being together and appreciating what just happened. I’m thankful my man knows me so well and can feel that I need a short time to recover, to take in what just happened.

Our hands wander aimlessly, our lips meet every now and then, softly and leisurely kissing. I pull my lips from him one last time, and just stare. “Will it feel that good?” I find myself asking.

He stares back at me, dropping several kisses to my shoulder before answering. “Yes, sweetness, but it will probably hurt at first.” I nod, already knowing this. “You’re really tight, and I’m not totally average.”

My face becomes pink at his words. It doesn’t matter that he just got me off with his fingers, I think I’ll always blush at such direct words. Not being able to comment on said size, I ask “You want to though, right?”

I know it’s a silly question – I can feel the evidence of that against me, but I need his verbal reassurance.

“More than you can ever know, Lara Jean. It’s been hard waiting this last year, but you are more than worth it. And if you wanted to wait longer and just cuddle tonight, I’d do that as well because you deserve that and more. I would never pressure you. Your body is yours to give, and yours alone. Yeah, sweetness?” 

I nod shyly at his endearing words. One thing he’s never done is pressure me to give more than I am willing. He has always been respectful of my body and boundaries; it’s one of the many reasons I love him deeply. 

“Yeah.” I nod, tenderly rubbing my nose against his.

“Yeah?” Peter teases me, pushing me onto my back, trapping me with his heavy frame and tickling me something awful.

“Stop, please,” I laugh as he expertly digs his fingers into my side and he licks the side of my neck.

“Stop?” he asks as if confused. “Stop what?”

“T-tickling me,” I gasp between laughs.

“And if I don’t?” He hits a particularly ticklish spot and I do all I can to squirm from him.

“No, n-no loving t-then,” I squeal out.

Instantly he stops; I try and shake the tears from my blurry eyes; my hands are still trapped under his strong grasp. He whispers naughtily in my ear, “That’s low, Covey. Very, very, very low.” He punctuates each word with a nip to my lobe.

I arch my back while rolling my hips into his hardness. He hisses something sinful, and I can’t help the pleased smile that breaks over my lips.

“Now that was low,” he moans in my ear. His breath is hot and delicious on my skin. “Do it again, baby.”

Willingly I oblige him, wanting to feel his literal reaction on me.

I do it again, again, again. And in turn he starts to move against me.

We both moan at the friction, at the connect we have.

My legs wrap around his waist, wanting to position him where he’s needed most.

And as his hardness aligns with me, I feel bliss.

We grind into each other, breathing and mumbling hotly into each other’s face, neck, chest.

My hands are on his naked back, feeling the play of his corded muscles as he moves against me. His hands are on my bare chest, squeezing and pinching so delightful.

I’m so hot and turned on I all but forget to breath. We are both frantic, trying to chase that allusive “O”.

Though his naked torso feels amazing on me with my legs wrapped around his clothes hips is intoxicating, I want more.

Without even thinking, and just needing to feel, feel, feel, I start to tug at his underwear. Peter goes to stop, surprised at my actions, but I won’t allow him. I bring his lips to mine and keep him there, licking, biting and panting into his opened-mouth kisses.

“Baby,” he says with my tongue licking his lips.

“Off,” I say. Done. Finished. I won’t wait any longer.

“S-sure?” he asks, hardly able to get anything else out.

“Mmm,” I mumble, past my limit.

With one last smoldering kiss left to my lips, I allow Peter to pull back. He gets up on his knees and stares down at me. He’s sweaty and breathing quite hard. He looks absolutely glorious. His eyes are intense as his fingers wander down the center of my chest, around my belly button and stopping at the edge of my shorts.

I bite my lip and nod. It’s all the permission he needs. His fingers caress the skin around the elastic around my shorts as I lift my hips. Tears come to my eyes at the intimacy of our actions, at the sweetness Peter is using to finally taking off my final barrier.

Once my shorts are off and discarded on the floor, he stares at me, taking me in with nothing on at all. Just my innocence. This time, I don’t cover up, and though a blush must be covering my entire body, I love the way he’s looking at me. As if my naked body holds the secrets to the universe. I know it’s an exaggeration on my part, but that’s how Peter makes me feel with his hungry stare.

Desirable.

My man bends over me and places two kisses on each of my hip bones. It’s wonderfully erotic and very sweet. I card my fingers through his hair, waiting to get his attention. When he looks back to me, I tell him with my eyes what I want next. It’s his turn.

There is no teasing as his hands go straight to his boxer briefs and pulls them down over his hips, down his bent knees and over his feet. Without ceremony he drops them and looks back to me.

I look at him unclothed for the first time, and my eyes get comically big. I don’t know much about the male anatomy (except from what I’ve learned from health class and my romance novels) but Peter looks big … and I mean big. He wasn’t boasting. I’ve touched him before and of course felt him before, but I never realized how big he was.

He must take in my frighten look because he sidles up to me and lays down by me. His penis touches my hip and seems to have a heartbeat of its own. He takes my chin in his grasp and turns me to him and away from down there.

“There’s no reason to be scared, sweetness.” I nod shakily. “You’ve touched me under my clothes before, yeah?” I nod again. “I’ll do everything not to hurt you, my love.” I get all warm inside as he calls me that.

“Okay,” I answer shyly. “But will you fit?” I’m serious in my question and Peter realizes this. He doesn’t make any quips about his size or girth.

He gives me a soft, indulgent half-smile, tucking my wild hair behind my ear. “It might take a little maneuvering, but we’ll get there together. I’m not kidding at how tight you are.”

And I know that to be the truth. Even the embarrassing trip to the gynecologist office told me that. She said I was small down there, but I don’t want to think about that – and I’m surely not about to divulge such information to my boyfriend.

“Okay,” I repeat.

Peter puts his forehead to mine and kisses my nose and lips. “You are so beautiful, Lara Jean Covey,” he breaths on my face. “So beautiful both inside and out. I wouldn’t change you or these two years we’ve had together.”

“Me either,” I say into his mouth, not letting him get far from my searching tongue.

I take one hand from his soft tresses and skim it over his shoulder, down his arm, past his fingertips, down his hip and to his member. 

This is a place my hand has been before. And as I start to touch him, stroke him, I can feel him starting to harden again. “Is this okay?” I ask, sliding my hand up and down his hard length. My hand feels so small compared to him down there.

“It’s always okay, sweetness. I always want you touching me anyway you want.” I squeeze my legs together at his words. They are just so perfect and hot.

I start to move faster at his words, watching in awe as Peter’s face becomes pinched as if in pain. I tighten my grip a little, knowing he likes a tight friction down there. He’s absolutely stunning to watch, to observe. Just watching him turns me on; knowing that I’m doing this to him, causing such feelings of euphoria in him.

As I go over his tip deep hisses leaves his lips and his fingers automatically stop me. His face is half-buried next to me on the pillow and his forehead has little beads of sweat on them. He’s incredibly beautiful.

“Can’t let you finish, sweetness. Too good.” As he catches his breath, I just watch. Though I look like a creeper just staring at him, I can’t help it. I love taking in every nuance of him.

I brush some of his fallen hair from his sweaty face, caressing his high cheekbones with the pad of my thumb. I lean in and kiss him below his fluttering right eye. I trail my lips over the entirety of his face taking in his flavor and scent.

As I go to kiss his lips, Peter gently pushes me onto my back before coming over me. We place slow lingering kisses to each other’s lips. This truly must be what nirvana is like: being closest to the one you love, feeling their breath on your face, their heart beating against yours, their skin pressed thoroughly against yours.

When I reach for him again, he holds my hands down by my head, and I find myself liking that, tingling in all the right places. He gives one last kiss to my lips before pulling back, “Hold that thought for just a moment.”

My man gets off the bed hurriedly and makes his way over to his wallet. Before I can ask what’s happening, he’s pulling out protection. I blush at the indication, but appreciate his wanting to protect me (as sexy as that sounds).

Once he’s by me again, he looks deeply into my eyes. “This doesn’t mean I expected anything tonight, sweetness. I want to make that perfectly clear. Okay?”

I take his hand holding the condom and kiss his fingers, pulling his large frame closer to me. “I know that, Peter.” I stare up at him from my lying position.

“It’s just since the beach house, I felt unprepared that night, and I treated you terribly. I can understand if you never wanted to try with me again, but I wanted to be prepared if we ever did try again, and –”

“–Peter, it’s okay. I understand,” I whisper into his fingers, stopping his sad little speech.

“I just want to protect you, Lara Jean,” he mumbles sweetly.

And with that, I’m finished. My heart is finished. My body is finished.

I pull him on top of me; we’re done talking.

Our kisses become frantic again as I all but devour him. For two years he waited and was patient. He gave me the physical space I needed, and the emotional space I needed to get here tonight. We’ve had our ups and down, but never was it about the time it took for us to have sex, and for that I’m simply elated. Peter is one of a kind (and I don’t care how clichéd that term is); to me he is my one of a kind.

Our hands are everywhere, no boundaries. On my chest, on my bum, on my thighs … inside, inside, inside me.

It’s all so glorious.

I find myself pushing against him, not wanting to embarrass myself by saying anything aloud, but not being able to stop the small wanton moans escaping from me. Peter’s fingers and body sliding on me, in me are elation.

And with a few more tweaks of his fingers, I let go of it all, allowing the light behind my eyes to blind me. My teeth bite something sharp into my lips, but it’s all too glorious. Too much.

Before I can comprehend anything else, I feel Peter fully on top of me, my legs parted and all but listless. His arms are holding some of his weight off me, and he staring down at me as if I’m his world. “Love you so much, sweetness. More than myself.”

I reach up and caress his face; I smile as he kisses my thumb outlining his lips, “Love you, too, Peter K. The most handsome boys of all the handsome boys.”

We both sigh as he lines himself up to me and starts to push past my innocence.

And he’s right, it hurts. I don’t know what to do or how to act: instinctively I pull back, trying to stop the hurting, but Peter brings his hand to my face and touches it softly, wiping at tears I didn’t even know had fallen.

“Breathe, baby. Just relax and breathe.”

I do as he say and try to relax my lower body from stiffening. I let go of the tightness and breathe deeply, reminding myself the pain will pass and I’ll be the closest to Peter I can ever get.

When I unclench Peter exhales sharply and is able to slide in even deeper. Again, it hurts but less this time.

“Fuck, Lara Jean … I can’t even explain.”

I feel myself spark hotly at his words; they do something so wicked in me and I now want him in further.

Tenderly, I raise my hips, trying to get him deeper into me. We both wince out of pleasure as he’s almost there. The feeling is exquisite and tingles are running the length of my spine and legs. Though it still hurts, the good is starting to outweigh the bad, and having Peter this close to me, this inside of me causes beautiful bedlam to my heavily beating heart. 

I have him still momentarily. I take in the moment, his gorgeously flushed face, his straining arms, his strong legs, his quivering stomach muscles, his intense eyes staring so wantonly at me. It’s all pandemonium, magnificent pandemonium.

“Love you,” we both mouth at the same time.

With him fully inside me, and me so fully stretched, I need him to move, to show me why it’s call it _making_ love. I start to raise my hips, knowing this will encourage him to move: to pull and push back in. Giving me that bone-tingling friction I know I need.

I wrap my legs tightly around him, allowing him to move, and giving myself the safety of holding on to my man as we move in the deepest expression of love possible.

My arms wrap around his torso, pulling him closer to me. I want his heavy weight on me. I want to feel his erratic heart beating literally on mine.

Peter’s face becomes buried in my neck as he drives me mad.

“Take me, baby,” my man pants into my sweaty neck, kissing and biting me tenderly.

His movements make me even wetter, and he glides in and out of me with no issue.

“Mmm, Peter,” I moan. “Please.” And what I’m asking for has escaped my mind along with all rational thought.

“So fucking tight, sweetness.”

I can only squeeze him tighter down there from his sensual words. I’m not a fan of his swearing, but as he pushes me, all but taking me to a stratosphere I’ve never hit before, I love his dirty mouth. It does the most wicked things to my body.

I’m so hot, so sweaty, so shaky. My hands are on his backside, trying to pull him impossibly closer to me. His hands are on my chest, in my hair, on the back of my legs, lifting them higher onto his hips, allowing him to hit some spot in me I didn’t know existed.

I feel myself starting to fall, and scared to let go. I don’t know what this kind of fallout will do to me.

I hold on tighter to Peter’s arms as I feel myself about to let go, but too scared.

“You’re fine, baby,” he whispers between raged breaths. “I-I’ll always catch you.”

“Peter,” I mumble as he hits that elusive spot one last time, and I see the brightest stars in the firmament behind my closed eyes.

“Let go, unclench, baby.” And I do, and there is no going back. I fall so far, so beautifully so helplessly.

The fall is endless and spectacular.

My arms fall from him and my legs open impossibly wide as my body melts into the beautiful blackness. I only have slight recollections of Peter burying himself into me as far as he could go. I feel him filling me, one … two … three times and slumping.

I feel some of his slight aftershocks and they cause me to shudder deliciously as well.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing, could have prepared me for such emotions and elations I felt with Peter in those moments.

It didn’t matter that I had romanticized our having sex together. To some, I knew I was fanciful, and maybe silly, but I had never felt more loved, or loved more. I had given to Peter the greatest gift I had to give, and I gave that willingly to my man. He took them and gave me so much in return.

Having sex with Peter wasn’t like I had read in those romance novels. It was even better because it was real. Sex had hurt, it had felt good. It was sweaty and the sounds of him moving inside me a little vulgar (if I am being honest), but it was real.

He had touched me right, and good and so exquisitely.

We indelibly touched each other’s hearts.

.

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  **AN** : Thanks for reading and a BIG thanks to those who've left me their thoughts. It is so very much appreciated. I know there are mistakes in this chapter, but I wanted to get this out. At some point I will go in and fix them, but in the meantime, hope it wasn’t too disappointing.

Until next time, many hugs.


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